


the palace - iwaoi

by mysummersolace



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Kuroken - Freeform, Bartender Iwaizumi Hajime, Eventual Smut, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Writer Oikawa Tooru, background bokuaka - Freeform, background kagehina - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysummersolace/pseuds/mysummersolace
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is content with his quiet bar, his loud friends, and his overall boring life.Oikawa Tooru is frustrated with a job he lost passion for, an inability to sleep at night, and a decided lack of inspiration.A chance encounter turns into a connection that might surpass what either of them is ready for.Or, bartender!Iwaizumi and writer!Oikawa AU
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 90
Kudos: 152





	1. stare but don't lust

The Palace was a small stone building tucked behind an old record shop and a quiet convenience store, with stray tendrils of ivy teasing its bricks and a distinct lack of business. There was no sign adorning the nondescript walls, no invitation to wandering passerby, just small black lettering near the door that proclaimed its name. The Palace wasn't the kind of place one ducked into randomly, or brought up in conversation with acquaintances.

In fact, had it not been for a fierce rainstorm, Oikawa may never have opened the sturdy black door. He had been at the record store, perusing dusty classics until the owner, a gnarled old man with a penchant for stories, had ushered him out at closing. The rain was heavy enough to warrant flooding in some areas, and he didn't have a car, anyways, so rather than walking home, Oikawa decided to wait out the weather. The convenience store next door was out of the question, as his most recent one night stand worked there, so he found himself tugging open the heavy door to The Palace, stepping inside, soaking wet and allowing his eyes to adjust to the din interior.

As expected, the building was nearly deserted. A quick glance confirmed three, maybe four people sitting at the bar, laughing and raising their glasses. The entire left wall was filled with shelves, up to the ceiling, more bottles than he could count filling every available space. The room was essentially split into two halves - on the left, the bar, and on the right, some slightly secluded booths, and an open space occupied only by a black piano.

As he walked to the bar, running a hand through his damp hair, he noticed the music, a soft, low beat that thrummed in his veins. Oikawa swore the song was familiar, but the details evaded his memory. His gaze drifted to the men at the bar. A casual assessment showed three men, all with dark hair, but drastically different in their other features. One was tall, with messy hair and a cunning gleam in his eyes; his first companion was shorter, with shoulder length hair and slouched posture, while his second companion was beautiful, with delicate features and a disinterested expression.

"What can I get for you?" The bartender finally spoke, diverting Oikawa's attention. He had a low voice that radiated a casual sense of confidence, and a slight smirk played on his lips as Oikawa looked him up and down.

"I'm Kuroo," they were interrupted by the customer with the messy hair. "This is Kenma, and Akaashi. And you are?"

Oikawa wondered if they made a habit of introducing themselves to stray customers like himself. When the bartender growled, "Shut up and let him order," he hesitated. The rain hadn't slowed down in the slightest, so he would probably be here for a while; he supposed there was no harm in making a few friends. "Oikawa."

Kenma held his gaze for a long minute before nodding. Oikawa wondered if Kenma had recognized his name, but brushed aside the thought. The last thing he needed right now was people making a big deal over him.

"So, Oikawa, what're you drinking tonight?" The bartender called him to attention once more, looking slightly irritated.

"What do you recommend?" Oikawa leaned forward slightly, interested to see what the response would be. "What do you drink?"

"Those are two different questions with two different answers."

"Oh, that's easy," Kuroo called out lazily. "Iwaizumi drinks Four Roses."

"Dumbass, not everyone knows what Four Roses is," the bartender - Iwaizumi - snapped, breaking Oikawa's gaze to glare at Kuroo. "Bourbon," he elaborated, turning back to Oikawa.

Oikawa nodded absentmindedly. "You seem like the type."

Kenma muffled a laugh behind his hand while Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow arrogantly. "How so?"

"You know," he almost shrugged. "The 'I want my alcohol to taste like alcohol' type."

There was a short round of laughter while a vein in Iwaizumi's neck started to tick. "Oh? And let me guess, you're the kind of pretty boy who wants cute little mixed drinks with fruit in them?"

"What do you think?"

Iwaizumi stared at him for a moment, fingers drumming the edge of the sleek, black bar. "Old fashioned?"

"You think he would be so basic?" Akaashi spoke up for the first time, a hint of amusement coloring his words. "I've been out of my vodka soda for the past ten minutes, so stop devouring our new friend with your eyes and refill my drink, if you don't mind."

Grumbling, Iwaizumi refilled Akaashi's drink, choosing not to refute his comment. Oikawa sensed that the four men had been friends for a while, and guessed that Akaashi was teasing him, rather than reprimanding him.

"Iwaizumi here prides himself on being able to guess what his customers prefer to drink," Kuroo explained. "In fact," he smiled widely, "I'm sure it's pissing him off right now that he can't figure you out."

"Ah. Well, I could just tell him," Oikawa started to say, before being cut off with a harsh, "No!"

"It's been a while since I was able to get Iwaizumi riled up. It won't hurt to tease him a bit," Kuroo winked.

Oikawa decided to play along. It was rather entertaining to watch Iwaizumi, who had an intimidating presence, stare at him with his eyebrows just slightly furrowed, clearly lost in thought. He took the opportunity to look at Iwaizumi, taking in his chiseled arm muscles, inquisitive green eyes, and commanding posture.

"Just make him a drink already, Iwaizumi." Kenma didn't look up from his phone as he spoke. "You'll figure out his preference eventually."

"He might never come back in, with how Iwaizumi is staring him down," Akaashi remarked as he sipped his drink. "You look like a feral animal."

"Shut up!" Iwaizumi focused his glare on Akaashi before grabbing a new glass. "I'll start classic, with a gin and tonic," he started to mutter under his breath, before pausing to look at Oikawa expectantly.

Oikawa nodded. "Why is this place never busy? It seems as good a place as any to drink."

"You keeping tabs on our bartender?" Kuroo raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Oikawa sipped the drink Iwaizumi had handed him, ignoring Kuroo's provocation. "I frequent the record shop nearby."

"What's the point of records?" Iwaizumi argued. "You can get any music online, so it's pointless to waste money on records."

"Oh, so that explains why you have such shitty taste in music," Oikawa nodded. "You don't appreciate it."

"My taste in music is fine! How's your drink?" Iwaizumi quickly changed the subject, clearly trying not to lose his temper.

"It's fine," Oikawa replied, then turned to the trio to his right. "Do you think he searched 'bar music' and played the first result Spotify suggested?"

"Certainly not," Akaashi inclined his head as Iwaizumi nodded emphatically. "He clearly chose the second result."

Iwaizumi's eyes widened as he realized Akaashi was teasing him. "You little traitor!"

"Your music is pretty boring," Kenma interjected. "Maybe that's why you never have any business."

"You three are in here every night!"

"We are kind enough to frequent your bar," Kuroo stood up dramatically, "but Kenma is right. This place could stand some more enthusiasm."

"If might help if there were a sign," Oikawa pointed out. "I wasn't even sure what this place was until I stepped inside. Not to mention," he held up a hand to stop Iwaizumi, who had opened his mouth to say something, "you need to have a social media presence."

"He's right," Kenma kept a monotone voice, but leaned forward slightly. "You're not going to get business by word-of-mouth. Everything is online."

"Oh, and I suppose you're offering?" Iwaizumi huffed when Kenma quickly shook his head.

"Maybe our new friend would be so kind?" Kuroo wrapped one arm around Oikawa's shoulders. "He could even be the face of The Palace! The Great King of The Palace. I'm sure the ladies would swoon."

"I'm sure Iwaizumi doesn't want to mix business with pleasure," Akaashi said with a small smile. He had a soft voice that contrasted with his dry sense of humor, and Oikawa wondered how many times his insults had gone unnoticed by their recipients.

"Shut up, Akaashi." Iwaizumi warned. "I won't have you harassing new customers."

"It doesn't bother me," Oikawa glanced at Akaashi, knowing he was only teasing, and not wanting to come between the friends.

"The harassment, or running this place's non-existent social media?" Kuroo pressed, a half smile toying on his lips.

"Either, or both, I guess." Oikawa's thoughts had been running wild since their conversation had started, for multiple reasons. He wondered if Akaashi was really just teasing Iwaizumi, or if Iwaizumi was interested in guys; not that it particularly mattered, of course. Oikawa had dated both girls and guys, and both were too much effort. However, a one night stand was a different matter altogether.

More than that, though, he had been thinking about the offer to manage the bar's online presence. His current job wasn't particularly fulfilling, a way to make ends meet more than anything, and he had been getting bored lately. Maybe this would be a good way to pass the time.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat. "You would really do that?"

"For a price, of course." Oikawa smiled lazily, seeing Iwaizumi's jaw clench in frustration. He had to admit, Iwaizumi was fun to tease.

"Forget about it. I can barely afford to pay my current employee."

"Yourself?" Oikawa arched an eyebrow, finally finishing his gin and tonic.

"No," Iwaizumi ran a hand through his dark hair. "This place isn't just a bar. I have another guy who works here and makes desserts."

"Oh?" Oikawa was intrigued. "What kind?"

"We rotate the menu every week. Miya went to a culinary school in the United States, so he can make a variety. Cookies, cakes, you name it. Oh, but his mochi is always on the menu."

"Half off drinks." Oikawa traced the lip of his glass, watching Iwaizumi intently.

"Hm?" Iwaizumi looked up, waiting for Oikawa to repeat himself.

"I'll run an Instagram account for you if my drinks are half off."

"You'll run me into the ground," Iwaizumi grumbled. "Tuesdays and Fridays only."

"Add in Saturdays and I'll make a Snapchat, too." He pushed his luck a little, grateful the trio next to him had allowed their banter without interrupting.

"Get me some more customers, and we'll renegotiate your terms."

"Deal." Iwaizumi shook his hand with a firm grip.

"Do you mind if I take a few pictures tonight? To post, of course." Oikawa had already pulled out his phone and started a new account.

"Oh, take pictures of us!" Kuroo broke his silence. "And get me another drink!"

"If he took pictures of anyone, it should be of me," Akaashi sipped his drink, one pinky extended, looking extremely refined.

"I'll take pictures of everyone. But the first post needs to be a picture of Iwa-chan. He's the heart of The Palace."

"At least put us on the story! And tag us." Kuroo all but begged.

"Fine," he sighed. "But in return, all of you have to post them on your own accounts. It'll be good to have access to your followers."

Although Kuroo started posing immediately, Oikawa didn't take any pictures until everyone had settled down. He'd always been a firm believer in candids. Eventually, he had several aesthetically pleasing shots - Akaashi, chin tilted up arrogantly as he sipped his drink gracefully; Kuroo, throwing back a shot, one hand planted on the bar; Kenma, reclining his head into his hand, a hint of a smile on his face as he watched his friends tease each other. His favorite, though, was of Iwaizumi, a smirk playing on his lips as he effortlessly mixed a drink.

Oikawa remained fairly quiet as the other men in the bar continued to banter lightheartedly. When he wasn't at work, he spent most of his time alone, drinking cheap liquor and trying to recapture the passion he'd once had for his work. He'd almost forgotten the simple joy of going out and spending time with people his own age.

"A round of shots to celebrate the Great King!" Kuroo exclaimed, trying to rouse excitement from his companions, who looked at him disinterestedly before shrugging in agreement.

 _The Great King of the Palace, huh?_ Oikawa smiled humorlessly. If only they knew how fitting that name truly was.


	2. hanging on a wall of stars

The downpour continued mercilessly for the next few hours, but eventually Oikawa stopped walking to the window to check. After all, it was far more entertaining to sit at the bar, listening to Kuroo attempt to persuade Kenma to take a shot off his body, while Akaashi occasionally leaned over to make a snide remark about the pair, and Iwaizumi busied himself cleaning the bar.

It had been longer than he liked to admit since he had spent time with anyone other than Ukai, the owner of the record shop he frequented, or one of the numerous flings he distracted himself with. He supposed he should get out more, but it was hard to face his old friends when they looked at him with such pity in their eyes.

"I take it gin and tonic isn't your drink of choice," Iwaizumi leaned across the bar easily, taking Oikawa's long empty glass.

He shook his head. "Not usually."

"You gonna come back in sometime?" Iwaizumi's voice was even, but Oikawa saw the muscles in his arms tense when Oikawa hesitated.

"Do you want me to?" Oikawa realized Iwaizumi must have thought he was joking about running The Palace's social media.

Iwaizumi shrugged. "You don't owe me anything," he remarked finally. "Don't feel obligated to do anything just because that dumbass-" he jerked his head to indicate Kuroo- "pressured you."

Oikawa let out a breath. That's what this was about. "Like I said, it seems as good a place as any to drink."

Akaashi, who had sat by him listening quietly, finally spoke up. "Besides, Kuroo will cry without you."

As if on cue, Kuroo paused from mussing Kenma's hair to pout dramatically. "Yeah, Oikawa. You have to come back. You're a part of the group now."

"Just like that?" He raised an eyebrow, but Kuroo nodded emphatically, repeating, "Just like that."

"Let me get another gin and tonic," Oikawa finally called, capturing Iwaizumi's gaze.

"You just said that isn't your drink of choice," he pointed out, although he grabbed another clean glass, all the same.

"So? It was a decent gin and tonic." Alcohol was alcohol, after all, and in the end, all alcohol had the same effect.

"You know I'm going to keep making you drinks until I get it right," Iwaizumi said as he slid a new gin and tonic over to Oikawa.

"And what happens when you get it right?" Oikawa raised the glass to his lips, arching an eyebrow as he waited for Iwaizumi's response.

"He'll take you on a date," Akaashi interrupted, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward intently.

Iwaizumi glared at Akaashi before turning to Oikawa with a small bow. "Please excuse this drunk and clearly insane man," he ground out with his jaw clenched as Oikawa raised his hands pleadingly.

"I am not insane!" Akaashi protested, although he slid his chair back to avoid Iwaizumi, who looked ready to punch him.

"You're insane if you think you're getting out of here without bodily harm, Akaashi." Iwaizumi's voice was a growl, but Oikawa detected a slight hint of redness on his cheeks, and thought he was more embarrassed than angry.

Kenma finally broke his silence. "You just want to skip the date and take Oikawa straight upstairs, huh?" His hair covered his eyes but a smirk played at his lips.

"It certainly is nice that your place is upstairs, isn't it, Iwaizumi?" Kuroo's grin was devious, eyes focused on Oikawa as he realized what they were insinuating.

"It's just a date," Oikawa tried to reason in an attempt to calm down Iwaizumi, who was beginning to look dangerously angry. A vein in his jaw clenched and his hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles were turning white, but Oikawa suspected Iwaizumi was bluffing to preserve his pride.

"All I'm saying is neither of you have said no." Akaashi looked incredibly pleased with himself as everyone turned to focus on him.

"I don't date customers," Iwaizumi spoke slowly, as if to keep himself calm.

"So you'd rather have a one night stand?" Kuroo's voice lilted, a clear taunt.

Finally, Iwaizumi took a deep breath and turned towards Oikawa. "I hope their behavior won't stop you from frequenting The Palace. You have my apologies on their behalf."

"It's fine," Oikawa assured him, a hand tugging his hair self-consciously at the stern gaze Iwaizumi turned on him. "It doesn't bother me."

Iwaizumi's shoulders dropped before he turned a glare on the trio next to Oikawa. "You're lucky this time, but I won't go easy on you if you drive away my customers."

After a grumbled apology, Kuroo and Kenma said their goodbyes and left, while Akaashi leaned his head on Oikawa's shoulder. Instinctively, Oikawa brought his arm up and began to trace gentle circles on Akaashi's back, just like his mom had done for him when he was a child and couldn't fall asleep. He was sure her arm would ache, but she never complained.

"Oikawa." Iwaizumi's voice, low and heavy, distracted him, causing his hand to still momentarily. "I hope you weren't offended or made uncomfortable by anything that those idiots said tonight."

"What do you mean?" Oikawa's head tilted in confusion. Sure, everyone had been messing around and teasing each other, but it had all been lighthearted.

"The comments," Iwaizumi explained, his cheeks starting to flush again, "about us dating."

 _Among other things,_ Oikawa thought with a smirk. "It doesn't bother me. Not like I've never dated a man before."

Iwaizumi's gaze snapped to him, a hint of curiosity illuminating his intense green eyes. "You have?" He half-spoken question hung in the air.

"Does that bother you?" Oikawa couldn't tell if Iwaizumi was intrigued or repulsed, but he hoped it was the former.

"No." He looked like he was about to say more, but Akaashi let out a soft snore, interrupting the moment. "Guess I should take him home. If you want to stay longer, I'll let him sleep upstairs until closing."

"It's fine, Iwa-chan." Oikawa stood up with a heavy sigh, preparing himself for the return to his dark and lonely apartment. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Iwaizumi nodded, letting a small smile make its way onto his face. "I'll hold you to that."

Oikawa braced himself against the heavy door, stepping outside into the light drizzle. It had been entertaining spending his time in The Palace - he might even say he had fun - but it was time to return to his dreary life. It almost felt like a dream that he was slowly waking up from. He paused to look behind him, taking in the rustic intensity of the building along with the silhouette of Iwaizumi's broad shoulders as he carried Akaashi.

It was a short walk home, despite his unhurried strides, and all too soon, he was unlocking the door and letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting in his apartment. His apartment was nice enough, he supposed, if a bit cluttered. He tossed his keys on the kitchen table and began making some coffee. At this point, he may as well stay awake and try to get some work done.

He already missed the casualness of his interactions with the men from The Palace. Adjusting back to the quiet was difficult after the constant banter from earlier. While some people would appreciate the lack of white noise from loud neighbors or street traffic, Oikawa found it hard to relax in the heaviness of absolute silence. While he waited for the water to warm up, he hurried over to the pristine black record player on his bookshelf.

After flipping through several records, he eventually settled on one, carefully slipping it from its sleeve and placing it on the record player. The relaxing melody seemed to settle into his veins, lifting the oppressiveness of the silence, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He settled cross-legged on the couch, cup of coffee cradled between his hand, trying to focus. He found it difficult, some days more so than others, that he would be unable to fall asleep, and unable to focus, therefore leaving him in a perpetual state of anticipation.

Every time he tried to close his eyes, restlessness thrummed through his body, forcing him up, as if there were so many things left to accomplish before his body would allow him the luxury of sleep, but more often than not, he would pace the living room, or stare into space, his mind too foggy to allow for productivity.

He needed a distraction. Of course, that's what he told himself every time he brought back a one night stand, but this time was different. He needed a distraction that would motivate him, challenge him, inspire him.

Restless, his fingers drummed against the now empty cup still nestled in his hands. Maybe all he needed was a change of scenery. He wondered if he would get more work done at The Palace.

Unable to focus on work, he finally opened up the worn leather notebook he kept on his coffee table at all times, surrounded by old books and dirty mugs. When he needed to calm his thoughts, he liked to write. It didn't have to be anything meaningful - sometimes just the act of smooth ink flowing on pristine paper was soothing.

It was several minutes of mindless writing before Oikawa paid any attention to the actual words he was putting on the pages - _palace, silhouette, ease of existence_ \- and stilled his hand.

"Ease of existence" was a phrase he had started using in high school, when he had realized the effortlessness some people carried themselves with. Since he was young, he had always been so conscious of how he spoke, moved, and appeared. He thought carefully about every action, as though any small mistake would shatter people's view of him.

In high school, though, he had met Terushima Yuuji. He spoke with an air of casualness, like he said exactly what was on his mind, without ever coming across too harshly. At first, Oikawa had assumed it was a facade, like his own, but early on in their friendship, he had learned that Terushima was completely genuine; the sense of fluidity and grace that marked his movements was just a part of who he was.

Ever since, Oikawa had envied those who had ease of existence, as years later, he still struggled to be so completely himself. Iwaizumi carried himself the same way, Oikawa realized. He radiated self-assurance, like what others thought of him was the last thing on his mind.

Before he could hesitate, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Terushima's contact.

_Teru-chan, I met someone today who reminds me of you. He's a smug bastard as well._

Even though it had been a while since he had talked to Terushima, he received a reply within minutes.

_Tooru. Don't be jealous because you finally met another person besides me who's better looking than you._

Oikawa smiled. He could almost hear the laughter in Terushima's words. He tossed his phone aside, grateful the interaction, small though it had been, hadn't been stilted. That was why he had been keeping his distance the past few months, anyways.

He wasn't interested in a constant barrage of apologies or a lingering pity when people mustered enough courage to look him in the eyes. He should have known that Terushima would be the exception; he'd always been an open book to Terushima. That's what had made them such good friends; a mutual understanding and, therefore, the ability to be there for each other in ways that no one else could.

Oikawa stood up with a sigh. Even though he knew what would happen, he decided to attempt to sleep. He figured he would lay in bed for about twenty minutes before getting up again, attempting to work for an hour or so, then repeating the cycle.

It was an old habit, one that he still indulged so the next morning, he could at least remind himself that he had tried to sleep, even if it hadn't been successful. His notebook was sprawled on the couch, and his mug had added to the growing collection on the coffee table, but he didn't bother to tidy up.

Sometimes it was easier to leave things as out of place as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next six chapters written out, which will be posted weekly. come yell at me about iwaoi on tumblr at rrksmith. all of your kudos, bookmarks, and comments are so appreciated!!


	3. could make hell feel just like home

Oikawa avoided The Palace for a week and a half before he found himself tugging open the door, still unsure why his feet had carried him on the almost familiar path from the record store to the bar. He had kept his distance on purpose, not wanting to seem too eager. Besides, maybe the camaraderie he had felt previously had been a fluke. Maybe when he walked back in, he would be greeted by strangers, by short, appraising glances, and disinterested comments.

Despite his hesitation, however, after a long-winded conversation with Ukai, who insisted on making him a cup of tea every time he entered the store, he found himself glancing over at the dark accents of The Palace, his fingers twitching in anticipation at the thought of being inside the dimly lit bar.

He stepped inside, running a hand through his hair as he allowed his eyes to adjust. There were a couple of groups sitting at the tables to his right, their voices causing a background of noisy laughter and murmured speech. When he scanned the bar, he saw Akaashi, his chin tilted up and his hair slightly mussed, but Kuroo and Kenma were nowhere to be found. His eyes finally found Iwaizumi, who watched him with a satisfied smirk as he approached the bar.

"And here I thought you might have forgotten about me." Iwaizumi's voice was rough, his green eyes piercing.

"Impossible," he replied easily, the word slipping off his tongue without a conscious thought to direct it. "Akaashi." He inclined his head in greeting, tearing his eyes away from Iwaizumi, who looked entrancing in a black button down with the first three buttons undone.

"You certainly have more restraint than I expected, Oikawa." Akaashi, elegant as ever, sipped his drink, leaving a long pause before he spoke again. "I bet Kuroo you would be all over our bartender within two nights."

"If that were the case, I'd have to find a new bar to drink at. Too much hassle," Oikawa waved a hand lazily, dismissing the notion.

"You don't like to keep in touch with your one-night stands?" Akaashi crossed one leg over the other and leaned into the bar slightly. "You must spend a lot of time avoiding people."

Oikawa chose to ignore the subtle prodding in Akaashi's words. "Iwa-chan, what are you making me tonight?"

"Still not going to tell me your drink of choice?" Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but didn't look surprised when Oikawa shook his head. "Tonight, I'll let you try my drink of choice - assuming you're not scared of drinking whiskey."

"Make it neat." Oikawa turned his head to glance at the unruly guests on the other side of the bar, his attention immediately drawn to a slender figure with vibrant hair and a breathtaking smile, who had his legs slung over the lap of a dark haired man with a harsh set to his mouth, despite objectively attractive features. They were a striking pair in their differences, bright against dark, exuberance against stability.

"I see you've noticed Hinata and Kageyama," Akaashi's voice sounded close to his ear, low and almost musical in its lilt. "They're certainly an eye-catching couple."

"Oikawa. Four Roses, neat." Iwaizumi interrupted smoothly, sliding the glass across the bar. "If you let it sit on your tongue for a few seconds, you'll notice hints of berry, vanilla, and oak."

"Iwaizumi!" The slender and bright male from earlier appeared at the bar suddenly, dragging his companion behind him by the hand. "Another round of shots!"

"Same as before, Hinata?" Iwaizumi turned around at Hinata's nod to begin preparing the requested drinks.

"Hinata, Kageyama." Akaashi acknowledged the pair languidly. "Congratulations on the win."

"Thanks, Akaashi!" Hinata immediately launched into an excited speech about the details of the game - volleyball, Oikawa surmised - while Kageyama rested a hand on his shoulder, nodding occasionally, or interjecting when he felt Hinata wasn't doing the story justice. "Ah! I haven't introduced myself yet!" Hinata apologized profusely when he noticed Oikawa. "I'm Hinata, and this is Kageyama."

"This is Oikawa," Akaashi supplied before Oikawa could say anything. "He's a-" here he paused for effect -"friend of Iwaizumi."

"Here ya go, Hinata, Kags." Iwaizumi set the glasses down a bit harder than necessary and glared at Akaashi. "Congratulations. You both played well tonight."

After they thanked Iwaizumi and carried the shot glasses back to the table, Iwaizumi turned expectantly to look at Oikawa, who realized he had yet to try his drink. He lifted the glass slowly to his lips, allowing the alcohol to coat his tongue before he swallowed. As Iwaizumi had explained, besides the usual burn of any whiskey, he tasted oak, vanilla, and, faintly, berries.

"Is that spearmint?" Oikawa tilted his head curiously. Iwaizumi nodded proudly, saying "There's a finish of cinnamon, too." Oikawa took a moment before recognizing the hint of cinnamon, but nodded his approval.

"Not half bad, Iwa-chan." He said, after a few more sips. The whiskey was just what he expected of Iwaizumi; it was strong, nothing fancy, but with an underlying complexity available for those who paid attention. 

"Already calling him Iwa-chan?" Akaashi raised an eyebrow. "My, how familiar."

Oikawa let out a small laugh. He was honestly surprised no one had commented on it earlier. "A bad habit I never kicked," he explained easily. "Akaashi-chan doesn't quite roll off the tongue, though."

"Does Keiji work better?" Akaashi supplied with a smirk.

"Kei-chan it is." Oikawa smiled. When he had first started working, he used to get in trouble for the familiar way in which he addressed people, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. His mom had always added the endearment, and if he were being honest, that wasn't the only habit he had picked up from her.

"Akaashi just wants to make Kuroo jealous," Iwaizumi explained with a half laugh. "Kuroo has a sometimes entertaining habit of dramatics."

"Where are Kuroo and Kenma tonight, anyways?" Oikawa tapped his fingers on the bar thoughtfully.

"Kenma only comes if Kuroo drags him, and Kuroo is working late. He may show up later on, though." Iwaizumi adjusted the sleeves on his button down, which were rolled to show off his tanned forearms.

The three men settled into a comfortable near silence, only speaking when new drinks were needed. Oikawa watched Hinata and Kageyama out of the corner of his eye, admiring the contrast of both their looks and personalities.

He finally called Hinata over, keeping his voice low. He explained that he was taking pictures and posting them online to increase The Palace's reputation, and therefore business. "Would you be willing to let me take a few pictures of you and Kags?"

Hinata excitedly called over Kageyama, who quickly agreed when Hinata placed a soft touch on his arm. "Can we post the photos on our accounts?"

"That would be perfect, actually. Don't worry about posing or anything. I'll just take a few photos as you're hanging out." Oikawa wrote down Hinata's phone number and promised to send him all the photos before waving the couple back to their table.

Oikawa took several endearing photos of the couple - Kageyama's lips brushing Hinata's ear as they shared a whispered conversation; their hands intertwined; Kageyama gazing fondly at Hinata, a slight blush dusting his cheeks - but the one he favored the most was of Kageyama pressing a kiss to Hinata's forehead.

"How long have they been together?" He asked as he sent the pictures to Hinata. "They seem like a good couple."

"About five years now," Iwaizumi responded as he wiped the bar down. "They got together right after high school."

"They played volleyball together all through high school," Akaashi added. "Those two have pretty much always been inseparable."

As Oikawa started to sip on his third glass of whiskey, his phone began filling up with notifications. "Hold on, I didn't realize Hinata and Kageyama play volleyball professionally. No wonder my picture of them is sparking so much interest."

It hadn't even been half an hour since Oikawa had posted the photos of the couple, and already, comments were flooding in, about the couple and the bar.

"Yeah, they're quite the duo on the court." Iwaizumi tilted his chin up in pride. "Maybe you can see one of their games sometime."

"You can tell they have known each other for years by the way they play together." Akaashi slid his glass forward for a refill. "Watching them is like watching one mind in two bodies."

Oikawa busied himself responding to comments, which only increased when Hinata and Kageyama reposted the photos on their accounts. The whiskey had lost all its original burn, and he was enjoying the layered flavors alongside the pleasant heat pooling in his stomach. 

"Your photographs are quite good," Akaashi remarked. "You have an eye for lighting and angles."

"Kei-chan, you flatter me." Oikawa smiled brightly, trying to change the subject. "I just know things of beauty when I see them."

Luckily, Akaashi stretched lithely and stood up. "I work early tomorrow," he said, calling out goodbyes to Hinata and Kageyama before excusing himself and leaving Oikawa alone with Iwaizumi.

"Iwa-chan, do you ever host events here?" When Iwaizumi shook his head no, Oikawa continued. "What if you had a weekly dancing night? You could push all the tables back, do a promotion on drinks, turn up the music."

Iwaizumi mumbled under his breath for a moment while he thought. "That's not a bad idea," he finally said. "My slowest night is normally Tuesday, so that would be a good time to try."

Slowly, Iwaizumi tossed out ideas for Oikawa's consideration, like what drinks to offer specials on, and if there should be a cover charge, before the topic turned to music.

"You have to let me be in charge of the music," Oikawa insisted, yet again. "It's the most important part. Even Kuroo or Akaashi would do a good job."

"And by 'good job,' I assume you mean better than me?" Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow.

Oikawa didn't hesitate. "Exactly! So it's decided." Iwaizumi looked frustrated, but threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine," he said, "but if this doesn't go well, I'm blaming you."

"Oh? And what's my punishment?" The words slipped out before Oikawa could stop them, and he covered his face in embarrassment. He had meant to assure Iwaizumi that their plan would be a success, but apparently the side of his brain that got distracted by Iwaizumi's toned muscles and low voice had taken over.

Iwaizumi flushed slightly. "You better not find out," he finally replied, looking like he would have rather said something else.

"I've been meaning to ask," Oikawa rushed his words out, trying to cover up the awkward silence that was lurking between them. "How late is this place open?"

"Usually until two. That's about as late as I can stay up these days." Iwaizumi's lips quirked up but a full smile didn't appear. He looked almost nostalgic, but Oikawa didn't pry. "Why? You interested in keeping me company all night?"

Oikawa couldn't tell if the slow heat spreading through his veins was from the alcohol or from Iwaizumi's words, but the careless reply he gave was definitely a side effect of the whiskey. "Take me to dinner first."

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by Kuroo's voice calling out, "You guys miss me?"

Kuroo was followed by Kenma, who walked half as fast and twice as quietly, only lifting his eyes for a brief moment to nod at Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Oikawa had already learned that Kenma had a sharp tongue beneath his quiet exterior; he may come across as shy but it seemed more that he didn't have the energy to deal with those he didn't care for.

"Oikawa!" Kuroo grinned widely. "Where have you been?"

"Ah," Oikawa shrugged. "Work is busy." He didn't expand, and Kuroo was too busy ordering a shot to ask any more questions. Kenma, however, looked up, eyes gleaming, almost taunting Oikawa.

"So, does The Palace have many famous patrons, besides Hinata and Kageyama?" Oikawa changed the subject, causing Kenma to lower his eyes again.

"The insane duo," Kuroo sighed. "I heard their game was a good one. Wish I could have watched."

Kenma was the one to actually answer his question. "Semi Eita comes here occasionally. Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro are more frequent customers."

Oikawa tilted his head. "How is it that such a small, out-of-the-way bar has a pair of professional volleyball players, an up-and-coming musician, and two of the most popular men in Tokyo as regulars?"

"Hasn't Iwaizumi told you?" Kuroo rubbed his hands together mischievously. "He played volleyball in high school. He played against the insane duo and Semi, and with - what do you call them, Iwaizumi? oh yes - Mattsun and Makki."

Oikawa hummed thoughtfully. That explained the rigged definition in Iwaizumi's arms, and the sense of purpose he carried himself with. "And you haven't used your connections to your advantage to become one of the top bars in the city?" It was almost laughable.

"They're my friends. I can't use them for business." Iwaizumi frowned.

"Oikawa is right," Kenma interjected, giving him a small nod of approval. "Your friends won't mind helping you."

Iwaizumi shook his head but eventually muttered that he would think about it.

Quickly, the conversation turned to the upcoming weekly event, and Kuroo and Oikawa excitedly talked about music suggestions. "Iwaizumi never plays anything with good bass," Kuroo complained. "We need to choose music with a good beat; people will want to dance, then."

"You're going to turn my bar into a strip club," Iwaizumi said disapprovingly.

"Now that you mention it," Kuroo began, getting interrupted by Iwaizumi leaning over the bar to punch him in the arm. "Point taken." He rubbed his arm gingerly.

Oikawa leaned back in his bar stool, swirling the whiskey in his glass around absentmindedly. When his gaze drifted back up, Iwaizumi was looking at him intently. A question burned on the tip of his tongue; he desperately wanted to know what Iwaizumi was thinking.

He tilted his glass up to his lips; maybe a few more drinks would give him the courage he was searching for.


	4. wicked words and tipsy topsy slurs

"So are we going for a gentle 'take your clothes off' vibe or a hardcore 'take your clothes off' vibe?" Kuroo slung an arm over Oikawa's shoulders, smirking at Iwaizumi, who took a deep breath and pressed his lips together to stay silent.

"I see what you mean." Oikawa tilted his head. "I'm thinking a more low-key approach, to maintain the original aesthetic of The Palace. We don't want it to get too rowdy, anyways."

They fell silent, Kuroo absorbed on his phone, every few minutes leaning over to Oikawa to get his opinion on music, humming at each different song title he saw, resulting in an ever-changing and slightly dissonant sound. Kenma alternated between staring at the bar and catching Oikawa's gaze in a look that was either compelling or taunting - Oikawa couldn't quite decide which.

Oikawa, however, was honed in on Iwaizumi. It had been two weeks since he'd taken anyone home with him, and he was craving the intimacy of another person's touch. Iwaizumi had an endearing habit of furrowing his eyebrows when he was making drinks, and Oikawa would be lying if he said he didn't notice Iwaizumi's tanned forearms straining against the sleek fabric of his shirt, rolled to the elbows.

He could do a lot worse than Iwaizumi, he decided.

As if Iwaizumi could hear his thoughts, their eyes met, a hint of a question lingering between the gaze. Oikawa shifted in his chair, feeling heat rush through his veins, slow and sweet.

"Drink with me, Iwa-chan." The words fell from Oikawa's lips before he had a chance to think, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it when he saw Iwaizumi's jaw clench, his eyes darken almost imperceptibly.

"I'm still working." He didn't sound opposed to the idea, his words lacking any real conviction. "It's a bad idea."

Oikawa smiled, sharp and cold. "I'm not exactly known for being a good influence."

It was the right thing to say. Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders and poured a glass, keeping his gaze on Oikawa as he took a long drink.

Deciding to push his luck in the lingering silence, Oikawa leaned forward, a sly smile finding its way to his lips. "Say, Iwa-chan, what do you say about keeping the bar open a little bit later tonight?"

Kuroo finally spoke up, his hair mussed and his eyes lidded. "What'd I miss? We're staying late at the bar?"

"Kuroo, were you asleep?" Oikawa's eyebrows raised. Despite his perpetually tired appearance, Kuroo didn't strike him as the type to fall asleep at a bar. Kenma nodded from behind Kuroo's shoulder, lips twitching in amusement, saying, "I told him we shouldn't come, but he insisted."

"Kenma, why don't you take him home? Bad for business to have a jackass sleeping on my bar." Iwaizumi reached across the bar to clap Kuroo on the shoulder, giving away his concern for his friend.

As Kenma tugged Kuroo towards the door, raising his hand in a simple farewell, Oikawa scanned the bar, noticing that Hinata and Kageyama had been quiet for so long due to an intense make out session, and besides a few loners seated across the room, the bar was deserted.

Iwaizumi quickly pulled his attention back, his voice gruff. "Why'd you want me to keep the bar open later, anyways? Isn't two in the morning late enough for you?" His eyes were dark as he finished off his drink.

"Just thought we could get more-" he paused, looking Iwaizumi up and down-"acquainted with each other."

Iwaizumi swallowed, unable to hold Oikawa's gaze. He poured himself another drink, clearly needing something with which to occupy his hands. "Oikawa." It was a warning, an invitation, low and warm and dangerous.

Oikawa's hand curled in, his nails digging into his palm in an attempt to ground himself. "Iwaizumi."

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow when Oikawa avoided using the already familiar nickname. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"I take it you're a dangerous man?" Oikawa already knew Iwaizumi carried himself with a sense of easy assurance, but his reaction, a cautious gaze and a strong grip on the edge of the bar, confirmed his question.

"When I need to be," Iwaizumi finally replied, polishing off his drink quickly enough that Oikawa wondered if he was chasing a buzz.

After a few long moments of silence, Iwaizumi spoke again. "I've been meaning to thank you. I know you were dragged into helping me, but your ideas have been pretty good so far."

"No need to thank me." Oikawa ran a hand through his hair, needing to expel some energy. He almost told Iwaizumi, then, how coming to The Palace, even just a few times, had brought him more peace than he'd had in months. "How'd you pick the name for this place, anyways?"

Iwaizumi glanced away. "My mom always told me that anywhere that feels like a sanctuary is as good as a palace."

Oikawa could almost hear the ghost of words unspoken, but knew better than to press Iwaizumi. "You want this bar to be a sanctuary, don't you?"

Iwaizumi hesitated before nodding. "You're annoyingly perceptive."

Oikawa took the veiled compliment with a nod. He decided mentioning his growing attachment to The Palace immediately after Iwaizumi's confession would seem insincere, so he bit back the words. "You're lucky to have such good friends," he settled on saying.

He almost wished he couldn't feel Iwaizumi's scrutinizing once-over, a harsh combination of disbelief and curiosity; he imagined he could see a hint of pity in Iwaizumi's eyes, but that could have been a trick of the lighting. Quickly, he forced a bright smile, a preemptive attempt to assure Iwaizumi that he was fine.

"They like you." His hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "My friends, I mean."

A bitter laugh pushed past his lips before he could stop it. They'll stop soon enough, he wanted to say. But that would lead to prying looks and invasive questions, no matter how well intended, and it was easier to avoid that conversation all together. "I'm glad." He kept the corners of his lips upturned, despite wanting to sigh.

"You want another drink?" Iwaizumi slid him another glass upon his nod, and waited until Oikawa had taken several lingering sips before he said, "You're a bad liar, Oikawa."

It took all of his self control to not spit out his drink, carefully schooling his expression into an amused quirk of his eyebrow and a calculating smile. "I'm not sure what you mean, Iwa-chan." He could feel his pulse thundering, knew his smile was strained and his shoulders tense.

Oikawa could count on one hand the number of people who could tell when he was lying. The only other person who had seen through him so easily was Terushima, but at least he had the decency to not call him out until their friendship had been thoroughly established. Even now, Terushima knew when to confront Oikawa about masking his feelings, and when to provide silent support until Oikawa was ready to talk. For Iwaizumi to be so abrupt, so blunt, and above all, so right, was irritating.

Oikawa was sure that if he were a hint more sober, he would be angry. He wondered briefly if being a bartender afforded one the ability to know exactly how much alcohol a person needed to speak the truth unhindered.

Iwaizumi gulped the rest of his whiskey before leaning forward intently. "You seem like you could use someone to talk to."

Maybe it was the intensity of Iwaizumi's eyes, hungry, like what he really meant was "I want to figure you out," or maybe it was the alcohol leaving a pleasant warmth in his stomach and a light buzz in his thoughts; either way, Oikawa let out a small sigh. "Sometimes I think I should come with a warning sign."

Iwaizumi kept quiet, letting Oikawa mumble under his breath until he figured out how to phrase what he wanted to say. "You're familiar with the concept of a summer fling, I assume?" When Iwaizumi nodded, an eyebrow raised, Oikawa continued. "That's the kind of friend I am."

Oikawa paused often, but Iwaizumi was patient. "There's this feeling of urgency in a summer fling, like time is moving both too fast and too slow. There's a juxtaposition of feeling like you've known each other for years - in a span of hours, you've laid your soul and body bare, and knowledge that you're going to run out of time. It's fast, furious, sweet, gut-wrenching. It's-" he cut off finally, after a crescendo of words that fell on top of each other in his haste.

"Short-lived," Iwaizumi finally spoke, a look of understanding falling into place as he stood up straight.

Oikawa nodded. "Exactly. I have a hard time making friends and a harder time keeping them."

"You run away." It was an observation but Iwaizumi spoke so evenly, without a hint of judgment to push the statement into an accusation. While Oikawa fumbled with a response, Iwaizumi waved a hand dismissively. "Just find friends that won't let you run away," he said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Oikawa hesitated, his mind wandering to Terushima. "You already have one, don't you?" Iwaizumi cut into his thoughts, seeming to read them with ease. Oikawa nodded. Terushima still didn't let him run away, even years after high school; he'd been giving Oikawa space for several months, but Oikawa knew in the back of his mind that Terushima was just waiting for Oikawa to reach out.

He made a mental note to call Terushima when he got home while Iwaizumi said, "Give people a chance to care about you."

"Does that include you?" Oikawa teased, his tongue tracing his bottom lip. He'd been more than vulnerable enough for one night, and wanted to move on to more interesting topics than his admitted inability to trust people.

Iwaizumi swallowed, his eyes focused on Oikawa's lips. He leaned in, looking unaware of his movements, until they were only inches from each other. Time seemed to slow, moving between each gentle exhale and slow blink. "Do you want it to?"

Oikawa took a shaky breath, not answering for a long moment. His hand reached out to the collar of Iwaizumi's sleek black button down, pulling him even closer. Their breaths mingled, their lips just shy of touching. "You're playing a dangerous game," he said lowly, repeating Iwaizumi's words back to him.

Iwaizumi smirked, confident and pleased and intense. "I can handle myself." And then his lips were on Oikawa's. His mouth was demanding, coaxing, his tongue tasting like honey and whiskey.

When they broke apart, Oikawa was breathless. "I thought you didn't date customers."

His grin was sly. "I never said anything against kissing them senseless."

They were interrupted by Hinata and Kageyama heading out with a loud goodbye, arms wrapped around each other as they stumbled through the door. Oikawa leaned back, fingers tapping restlessly against the bar. "I'm not interested in finding a new bar to drink at."

"I forgot your rule about one night stands," Iwaizumi laughed, dark and low. "I guess we'll just have to wait until I know you won't run away."

Oikawa's breath hitched. "I knew I should have taken you home the first night I met you. Then we wouldn't know each other well enough to be at such an impasse." Despite his frustration at Iwaizumi's denial, the easy way he took control, the authority in his voice, was soothing.

Iwaizumi's sharp grin flashed. "Oh, I think it's better this way."

Oikawa laughed. "You like to be in control." Usually, Oikawa's flings were uninspiring, a quick way to release tension, and never invited back. He had to admit that the thought of giving up control, the very thing he built his life around, sent a shiver down his spine. 

Iwaizumi leaned in, his lips brushing Oikawa's ear. "There's freedom in letting go of your control."

Oikawa stared at him, wordless, taking in the hunger in his eyes, the upward curve of his lips. He thought back to wanting a challenge, something to inspire and motivate him.

Maybe what he was looking for was right in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for continuing to read! find me on tumblr at rrksmith and chat w/ me about iwaoi


	5. chasing after danger

Oikawa let the sturdy door to The Palace slam shut behind him. Iwaizumi had kept the bar open an extra hour, grumbling halfheartedly while he wiped down tables. He'd complained about staying awake later than usual, prompting numerous jokes, but his eyes lingered on Oikawa in a way that said he didn't mind.

Iwaizumi had kept his distance after their kiss had ended, his hand slowly untangling from the fabric of Oikawa's shirt. Oikawa wondered if the space between them was to tease him or to prevent Iwaizumi from kissing him again.

He wandered home, humming under his breath. The moon hung low and clear in the sky, contrasting against the familiar city lights. Barely paying attention, he let his footsteps follow the familiar steps and turns back to his apartment, lazily fishing his key from his pocket to unlock the door.

Finally, having delayed as much as he reasonably could, he took a deep, steadying breath and dialed Terushima's number from memory, despite having it saved in his contacts. "Teru-chan. I hope I didn't wake you."

He could almost hear Terushima's reply - _It's barely two in the morning; the night is just getting started_ \- but they had hardly spoken in six months, so Terushima skipped the pleasantries with a snort. "Finally done running away, Tooru?"

Oikawa shook his head, taking in the low and gentle timbre of Terushima's voice before replying with a hollow laugh. "I don't know."

"You remember what I told you the first time we fought?" Terushima's voice was hesitant, almost pleading.

"You mean when you told me you knew I was lying, and I didn't talk to you for three days?" Oikawa tried to deflect the question, even knowing it wouldn't deter Terushima.

"You can run away from anyone else. Just don't run away from me," Terushima softly repeated his words from years ago, like Oikawa hadn't replayed that memory every time he and Terushima had fought, every day since he stopped replying to his messages.

Terushima had transferred to Oikawa's high school midway through their first year. He'd unnerved Oikawa, always looking at him so intently, like he saw right through Oikawa. They'd made a good team on the volleyball court, though - Terushima's boundless enthusiasm able to keep pace with Oikawa's relentless sets.

Despite their best efforts, they had been defeated by Shiratorizawa. When Terushima had clapped Oikawa's shoulder, asking if he was okay, Oikawa had forced a smile, replying stiffly that he was fine.

"You slammed me against the wall, Teru-chan," Oikawa reminisced. "Leaned in real close and told me never to lie to your face again. A real brute."

Terushima laughed softly. "You avoided me for days until I cornered you. Was it really so scary to have someone who could tell when you were lying?"

The silence stretched for a few long beats. "It still is," Oikawa finally admitted. "And I met someone else who can see right through me."

"Oh?" Terushima didn't force him to talk about the last six months and the fallout he'd left behind, nor did he rush Oikawa to speak. He always had known when to stay quiet, letting Oikawa work up the courage to say what was on his mind.

"He only met me a couple of weeks ago, but he told me tonight that I'm a bad liar." Oikawa paced back and forth a few times, trying to release nervous energy. He didn't have to say anything more for Terushima to understand the depth of the situation.

Oikawa had been called many things in his lifetime, some flattering, some insulting, but he had never been called a bad liar. Of course, he didn't like to think of it as lying. Rather, he was maintaining control, control of his emotions, control of his actions.

"It's not the end of the world to be vulnerable, Tooru." Terushima sighed, sounding too serious for the bold, bordering on disruptive, antics he usually displayed, and Oikawa was reminded harshly of the pain he had left behind.

"I'm sorry, Teru-chan." The words almost caught in the back of his throat, but he forced them out. It was too easy to think he was the only one affected by his past, but Terushima was hurting, as well. "I left you to deal with everything by yourself even though I knew you needed me."

It wasn't often that Oikawa apologized. It wasn't that he thought he never needed to apologize; it was just easier to distance himself. If he apologized, he would have to admit that his perfectly upheld persona had failed him, and he didn't think he could handle any more cracks in that carefully laid armor.

"We both needed each other," Terushima reminded him. "Just promise me you'll stop running away." The unspoken please lingered in the following silence.

"Are you free on Tuesday? We could do dinner and drinks, just like old times." Oikawa knew Terushima heard what he really meant - I'm done running away. He was bad at apologies and worse at the aftermath, but for Terushima, he would make the effort.

"I'm always free for you, Tooru." Terushima's voice was light and teasing, just as it had been the first day they met, and he found himself relaxing his shoulders as they moved back to familiar ground. "Get some sleep. I can practically see your dark circles through the phone."

"Goodnight, Teru-chan." Usually, he would have protested, but Terushima was right. He was tired, more so than usual. He'd had insomnia since he was a child, but now, even when he managed to fall asleep, he woke from nightmares, heart pounding and unable to close his eyes again.

So, despite the fatigue pulling at his eyelids, desperately trying to force him to rest, Oikawa stood up, heavily shuffling to the kitchen and making coffee. He didn't even like coffee, but like clockwork, every morning and every night, he drank several cups. The scent was soothing, and the caffeine helped cut through the constant fog that seemed to swirl in his thoughts.

When he powered up his laptop, he found several new emails. The only one he bothered to read was from Yachi Hitoka, an illustrator at the publishing company he worked with. She said she was anxious growing up, but ever since he had known her, she had been assured and driven. She was one of the only people that Oikawa trusted with the visions he had for his books, so she had also taken on the role of his manager.

Oikawa had published his first book at sixteen, which had done well enough to earn him accolades from various literature circles. He'd managed to continue his success for several years, but over the last year, writing had felt more like a chore than something he enjoyed doing. He'd spent months desperately searching for some creative vision, some motivation, but had been barely keeping up with his deadlines.

Yachi's email had been short but friendly. A simple _Hey, Tooru-kun, let's meet for coffee this week so I can show you some design covers for your new book,_ followed by a few suggested meeting times and several smiley faces. Although their relationship had begun in a professional capacity, Oikawa had come to think of Yachi as a little sister, and looked out for her as fiercely as she looked out for him. He emailed back quickly, expressing his desire to see her, selecting a meeting time, and suggesting a coffee shop close to both of their apartments.

He hoped that Yachi's designs would give him some inspiration for the plot of his latest book, as he'd been stuck on the details ever since he came up with a basic premise. When he'd first started writing, he had written fantasy books, quickly rising the ranks of young adult authors, but once he hit his twenties, he had started branching out the genre he wrote in. The book he was working on now would be his first publication that was geared away from fantasy.

Sixteen year old Oikawa would have scoffed at the idea of writing a coming-of-age romance novel, but he had recently realized that the teenage version of himself could have used more books that dealt with the exploration of sexuality, so he decided to write one. There weren't enough books on the market that dealt with gay romance, in his opinion.

When he opened up a distressingly empty word document that was supposed to contain the first three chapter of his novel, due by the following week, he found the words coming more easily. He started out simply, setting a scene - a dimly lit bar with a welcoming atmosphere, a rainy night, and a dark haired man with piercing eyes and a low laugh.

The best piece of writing advice he'd ever gotten was that it's best to write what you know. Basing elements off of past experiences guaranteed an authentic feeling to a work. So, if he were to use The Palace, or even Iwaizumi, as muses for his writing, he was simply doing his job as an author. Besides, all it meant was that Iwaizumi made an interesting character. It's not like the fact that it was a romance novel meant anything.

He wasn't going to fall in love with Iwaizumi. He was just an attractive bartender that Oikawa wouldn't mind going home with, once or twice, or a dozen times.

He picked up his phone absentmindedly when it rang. "Hello?"

"Tooru-kun, I could practically feel you overthinking," a bright voice greeted him. "You're up too late, again."

"Ah, Hito-chan! My darling, you are up far too late, as well. You should be getting some rest instead of worrying about a restless old author like myself." Talking to Yachi always put an easy smile on his face. She was dynamic, caring, and intelligent. She certainly balanced out his own tendencies towards distance and coldness.

"Hush with that. You know you're family to me." Yachi didn't have to keep talking to remind Oikawa that she didn't have anyone else to worry about. Her mother, her only true family, had passed away when Yachi was about to graduate college. Oikawa's own mother had taken Yachi in, inviting her over for every holiday, sending birthday gifts, and treating her like another member of the family.

"And you're mine," he responded smoothly. It was an exchange they'd had too many times to count. "Now, tell me, Hito-chan, why are you not sleeping?"

"You're too perceptive, as always," Yachi responded with a slight sigh. "I may have developed a slight crush."

"Tell me all about them," Oikawa coaxed. Yachi was still shy when it came to romance, and didn't develop crushes lightly.

"Her name is Shimizu Kiyoko. She's a paralegal at the law firm that deals with your royalty contracts. She's beautiful, and so smart. Definitely out of my league." Yachi had sounded lively and animated when describing Shimizu, but deflated at the end.

"Nonsense," Oikawa breezed away her concerns. "You always underestimate how radiant and intelligent you are. You're the catch."

He could practically see her blush rise through the phone. "You're too kind, as always, Tooru-kun. I always can rely on you to pick up the phone at three in the morning," she teased with a small laugh.

"I'm nothing if not predictable." He tried to keep the hint of bitterness out of his voice. He'd been predictably the same since he was a child and it irritated him constantly. "I know you're planning to be in the office early, so you need to get some sleep, though."

They said their goodbyes and hung up, Oikawa wearily turning back to his laptop. He determined that tomorrow, when he went to The Palace, he would take his laptop with him. He even toyed with the idea of asking Kuroo, Kenma, and Akaashi if he could do a character analysis of them. Although his plan would require him to tell his new friends his occupation, he decided the benefit of having inspiration for new characters outweighed the hesitancy for people to know who he was.

He assumed Kenma had known from the beginning, based on the knowing looks that were constantly directed his way, and he didn't think Akaashi or Kuroo would treat him any differently, but he worried that Iwaizumi would think less of him. Not that Iwaizumi's opinion mattered to him all that much, of course, but Iwaizumi was so rough around the edges, Oikawa thought he might look down upon such a creative profession.

 _Anyways,_ he thought to himself with a cynical laugh, _does it matter if Iwaizumi dislikes me for this or another reason? He'll get tired of me either way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone for reading, and leaving kudos and comments. I love being in the fandom and I love writing iwaoi


	6. hands clasped so tight

Oikawa showed up at the bar early the following night, his laptop tucked under his arm precariously. The four faces he had started becoming accustomed to turned to look at him as the door slammed shut. The rest of the bar was deserted, since the sun hadn't even set yet. He bashfully raised a hand in greeting before stepping over to the bar.

"Oikawa, why do you call Akaashi 'Kei-chan' and I'm just Kuroo? It's not fair," Kuroo began petulantly, a glass already half empty in front of him. Kenma raised his eyebrows when Oikawa opened his laptop, a small nod all the hello he gave.

"Kuroo-chan just doesn't sound right," Oikawa replied with a shrug. "However, Kenma-chan will do just fine." Kenma rolled his eyes at the nickname, but responded with a soft, "Have it your way, Tooru."

"What about Tetsurou-chan? No, that doesn't work either." Kuroo ignored his drink while he contemplated, chin in hand.

Akaashi interrupted Kuroo's dramatics with an incline of his head and a soft smile. "It's good to see you again, Oikawa. Are you working tonight?"

"I'm going to try. I'll wait a few moments though, catch up with everyone, get a drink in me if the bartender obliges." He glanced at Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye, pleased to see the normal stoicism of his features betrayed by a softness in the way he nodded. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you guys."

When he hesitated, it was Kenma who met his eyes, a slow blink and a low, "Go on, then, Tooru," to encourage him. "I want to write you, all of you."

As expected, everyone except Kenma reacted. Kuroo's dejected act fell away, his eyes widening in interest. Akaashi tilted his head quizzically, as if he had expected Oikawa to say anything else. When he worked up the courage to glance towards Iwaizumi, he was met with an unwavering stare, and Oikawa couldn't read Iwaizumi well enough to decipher the look in his eyes.

"It's a work of fiction, so naturally, I won't be writing you, specifically. But any good author uses real people as inspiration," he explained, pushing his glasses higher on his nose, "so, if you'll let me, I'd like to base some characters off of you."

"So, we'll be your muses?" Kuroo's eyebrow furrowed slightly, but his eyes still glimmered with curiosity. Oikawa ignored him for a brief moment, quickly opening his laptop to write a small note about the juxtaposition between Kuroo's cunning smiles and golden eyes that betrayed his own open fascination with the world around him.

"Precisely, Tetsu-chan," Oikawa finally responded, turning away from his laptop. As Oikawa expected, the use of the nickname was all it took to win over Kuroo; however, he probably hadn't needed convincing in the first place.

Kenma responded in the following silence, "I don't care." That was assent enough.

Akaashi looked at him for a long moment, gaze prying but thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. "I agree, assuming this entitles me to a favor of my choice in the future." He had expected that from Akaashi, merely nodding his acquiescence, and slinging an arm around his shoulder in a brief embrace. "Iwaizumi? I assume you'll say yes."

Oikawa turned slowly to face Iwaizumi, who had thus far remained quiet. He had been so still, in fact, that he was still holding onto Oikawa's drink, which he suddenly remembered and slid towards Oikawa impassively, his face still betraying nothing. Oikawa swallowed nervously, finding that he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands under the heavy gaze rooted to him.

"Why do you assume that?" Iwaizumi finally broke his silence.

"Because you want to be Oikawa's muse?" Akaashi responded smoothly, eyebrows raised half exasperatedly, as though tired of explaining the obvious to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi, in turn, ignored Akaashi. "What's it about?" He didn't sound judgmental, just curious, and Oikawa found himself letting out a relieved sigh, before tilting his chin up, as he had become accustomed to any time he explained this particular idea.

"It's a coming of age story for a queer teenage boy. I believe that queer youth are underrepresented in current media, and as an author, I have the responsibility to provide that representation to oppressed groups when I can." Oikawa paused before saying in a softer voice, "Sixteen year old me could have used a book like this, so now I'm writing it for other teenage boys that think something's wrong with them when they first realize a closet is one of the most suffocating places one can exist."

Iwaizumi's features finally softened, almost imperceptibly. Oikawa caught it, though, the slight release in his shoulders, in his jaw. "Yes."

Oikawa wished he could read Iwaizumi's mind in that moment, but he settled with flashing a genuine smile and taking a large drink from his previously unattended glass. "Thank you. Saying yes doesn't mean anything drastic will change, but I'll ask questions sometimes, and take notes."

Iwaizumi nodded briefly. "What do you think of the drink?" And that was that.

"It's refreshing. Probably my favorite so far." Oikawa smiled lazily, enjoying the small flash of pride on Iwaizumi's features.

"It's Sprite, raspberry vodka, and mint," Iwaizumi offered helpfully, as though Oikawa would ever go to another restaurant and order it, when he could continue frequenting The Palace and having Iwaizumi make his drinks.

Akaashi hummed, garnering Oikawa's attention. "Iwaizumi said he should be able to start the weekly events by next Tuesday. Have you started posting anything online?"

Reluctantly, Oikawa shook his head. "I didn't realize it would be starting so soon. Oh, Kei-chan, take a picture with me and I'll post it."

Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa's phone before he had finished his sentence. "Let me take a picture of the four of you." He gruffly instructed them to stand in front of the wall that held countless glass bottles of liquor, ignoring their protests that he be included in the picture.

A few moments later, Oikawa settled on a photo. Kenma was slouched in the middle, Kuroo's arm tightly around his shoulders. Akaashi had Kenma's chin tilted up playfully, locking their gazes, while Oikawa rested his head on Akaashi's shoulder, his eyes focused past the camera to look at Iwaizumi.

He added a few details about the timing of the event and how exciting it would be in the caption before posting the picture. Glancing around quickly, he changed his phone wallpaper to the picture, looking fondly at the screen for a moment before locking his phone. "Done!" He announced cheerfully, before sliding his glass forward in a silent request for another drink.

"I think your novel is going to be great," Akaashi said quietly, his eyes focused on Kuroo and Kenma, who were leaned into each other as they talked. "People don't always understand how stifling it can be to be in the closet. Or the inability to escape the crushing thought that there's something wrong with you."

Oikawa raised a brow, but his voice was soft. "You sound like you speak from experience, Kei-chan."

"I've been out for about five years now. It's very freeing. Not everyone else I know is so lucky." His gaze didn't shift back to Oikawa for a long moment, but when it did, he looked tired.

Iwaizumi spoke up as he slid a new glass towards Oikawa. "Akaashi is right."

"About which part?" Oikawa asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. He assumed Iwaizumi was out, since he'd had no problem kissing him in the bar the other night, but he couldn't be too careful.

"Both," Iwaizumi replied easily. "I've been out since the first year of high school. My mom and stepfather weren't - aren't - supportive. I left right after graduation, and they haven't kept in touch."

Oikawa wanted to reach out a hand to Iwaizumi, smooth out the crease between his eyebrows, but he clasped his hands together instead. "I'm sorry." He knew there wasn't much else to say.

"Akaashi's parents have basically taken me in," Iwaizumi said with a shrug. "At least I have somewhere to go for the holidays."

Akaashi graced them both with a small smile. "My parents tell everyone they have two sons."

"Does that mean I'm stuck with you?" Iwaizumi asked playfully, taking a quick step back when Akaashi reached out a hand haphazardly to hit him. "You know I'm kidding, Keiji."

Oikawa assumed he used Akaashi's first name to placate him. It was endearing, watching their interactions. He looked past Akaashi, towards Kenma and Kuroo, who were finally turning to join in the conversation. Kuroo looked subdued.

He unlocked his phone again and sent a text to Yachi with an idea for the layout of his book . The door slammed shut, alerting him to the entrance of Hinata and Kageyama. Hinata all but skipped over to the bar, letting Akaashi ruffle his hair, while Kageyama followed more slowly, the corners of his lips turned down like he'd tasted something unpleasant, although his eyes were soft as he watched Hinata bounce around greeting everyone.

"You're Oikawa Tooru, aren't you?" Kageyama interrupted his musings. "You were the best setter in the prefecture in high school."

Oikawa smiled tightly. "Those days are long past." He hated being reminded of his promising high school career.

"How's your knee?" Kageyama didn't seem to be able to take a hint. Oikawa's brow twitched in annoyance. "After what happened-"

"I'm fine," Oikawa interrupted breezily. "Kageyama, was it?"

He nodded. "Kageyama Tobio."

"Well, Tobio-chan." Oikawa leaned in closer, keeping his words quiet. "Here's a friendly piece of advice. Most people don't enjoy discussing their failed careers in small talk."

Kageyama stepped back, his eyes widening. "Sorry."

Hinata stepped in quickly, apparently sensing the tension from his position down the bar. "Please forgive him, Oikawa." His smile was sheepish. "We're still working on his manners."

Oikawa waved his hand, dismissing the apology. "Don't worry about it, Chibi-chan."

Kageyama, head down, resumed his place by Hinata, leaving Oikawa to his drink and relief.

"So, you were a setter." Akaashi turned his intense gaze on Oikawa, long fingers tapping on the counter. "So was I."

Oikawa laughed, stilling Akaashi's hand and holding it up to his own. They both had long, delicate fingers, and nails trimmed short and neat. "We have setter's hands."

Akaashi linked their fingers briefly, squeezing Oikawa's hand before letting go. "Kageyama certainly seemed impressed with you, so you must have been good. He doesn't give praise lightly."

Oikawa shrugged, not answering, so Akaashi spoke again. "Iwaizumi here played volleyball, as well. He's a hell of a wing spiker."

"Akaashi and I actually still play recreationally. If you ever want to join our practices, let me know," Iwaizumi added smoothly, ignoring Akaashi's compliment.

"Iwaizumi just doesn't like my tosses," Akaashi teased, with a slight sniff to indicate his displeasure.

Iwaizumi grinned, sharp. "What tosses? The only person you like to toss to is Bo-"

Akaashi clapped his hands together, effectively muffling the rest of Iwaizumi's sentence. "We've been needing a second setter. Our next practice is on Friday. You'll be there, and come out for drinks afterwards."

Oikawa allowed himself a small laugh. "It sounds like it's settled. Don't expect too much from me, Iwa-chan. It's been a while since I've played."

Iwaizumi looked over him carefully, voice low. "Wear a knee brace." Oikawa should have realized he heard his conversation with Kageyama.

"I can't play without it," Oikawa said dismissively.

Akaashi's phone vibrated on the counter. After glancing at it, a smile broke onto his face and he stood up. "I've got to get going."

He took a moment to rest his hand on the back of Oikawa's neck, brushing the hair at the nape of his neck. "A date with Bo-chan, I'm assuming?" Oikawa asked with a smile.

In retaliation, Akaashi gently tugged Oikawa's hair before waving to everyone and walking to the door.

Oikawa glanced around the bar, his eyes catching on a few lonely patrons in the booths across the room. Hinata and Kageyama were excitedly discussing volleyball with Kenma and Kuroo, if Hinata's enthusiastic vocabulary drifting across the bar was any indication.

Iwaizumi placed his hands on the bar and leaned forward slightly. "I'm looking forward to hitting your sets," he admitted. "So you better show up."

"Sounds like a date," Oikawa winked. "And here I thought you didn't date customers."

Iwaizumi levelled his gaze. "I could be persuaded to date a friend." His voice was low and serious.

Oikawa's heart stuttered. Iwaizumi was looking at him like he saw right through Oikawa, and wanted him anyways. Oikawa was laid bare under his eyes, a willing victim to the thinly veiled desire Iwaizumi's gaze hinted at.

"I'll be there." Oikawa finally replied, after swallowing the fear in his throat. He had a feeling that showing up would change their relationship. He wasn't sure if he was ready.

But he had the lingering feeling that it didn't matter if he was ready or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rrksmith on tumblr and twitter  
> thank you as always for reading and commenting  
> all the chapter titles are from songs I like - see if there's any you recognize!


	7. sky ripped wide open

Oikawa had spent the rest of the previous night with his hands wrapped around a drink, like the pressure from the smooth glass could alleviate the twist of his stomach. Iwaizumi had scrutinized him, even going so far as to reach out and ruffle his hair at one point.

As he slid into a seat at the coffee shop to wait for Yachi, he continued thinking. Kageyama's comments had stirred up a nostalgia for volleyball. Half consciously, his hand drifted to his right knee, tracing a small circle on the scar there.

Kageyama had been right. He'd been considered the best setter in the prefecture back in high school. He'd been scouted by Tokyo University in the beginning of his third year, and was on track to lead his team to Nationals.

Halfway through the third set of the game they needed to win to go to Nationals, he had landed wrong from a jump serve. With a shiver, he recalled the popping sound that had sounded distant in his own ears, the way his body had collapsed on the gymnasium floor to the sound of utter silence.

When the doctor told him he needed surgery for his torn ACL, it hadn't come as a surprise. His knee had been giving him issues for years. He iced it religiously, never skimped on his warm ups, but could only mitigate the stress from his extended practices so much.

He still hated the fact that he couldn't lead his team to Nationals. Their backup setter was decent, but he knew the team had been shaken by his injury. The lack of confidence and cohesion they were usually known for had been their downfall.

However, he acknowledged that it was for the best in the end. Tokyo University had rescinded their scholarship offer - he may have been the best in the prefecture, but even the great Oikawa Tooru was replaceable - and he had decided not to attend college, instead choosing to focus on his writing, which up until then had only been a hobby.

He took what could have been a one hit wonder written by a teenager and turned it into a career. Writing had a lesser chance of ruining his body, anyways.

"Tooru-kun!" Yachi's bright voice cut through his thoughts. "Sorry I'm late!"

He stood up to give her a hug, lifting her off her feet and squeezing her until she gasped. "Hito-chan! Have you gotten taller?"

She slapped at his arm lightly, a signal to let her feet touch the ground again. They both settled into their chairs as she said, "Of course not. You must be growing still."

They bantered for a few moments while waiting for their coffees to arrive. Yachi ordered a matcha latte, while Oikawa stuck with black coffee. As a teenager, he had liked sweet coffees, but it's not like he drank coffee for the taste these days.

Yachi took a sip of her coffee before pulling out a laptop Oikawa hadn't even noticed. "Okay, Tooru-kun, I stayed up late last night to add a couple more designs based on your text. I know I didn't have to," she dismissed him before he could even open his mouth to protest.

She started scrolling through different designs, varying concepts, but all with the same dark color theme. He had instructed that the colors stay muted to represent the metaphorical darkness of being in the closet.

All of Yachi's designs were beautiful; he expected nothing less. He looked at them intently, realizing with a sinking feeling that none of the designs fit his book perfectly.

Yachi hesitated before scrolling to the final design. "I know this isn't what you asked for, Tooru-kun, but-" she cut herself off as Oikawa's jaw dropped.

It was a picture of his face, with stripes of pink, purple, and blue, the colors of the bisexual pride flag, painted across the right side of his face, striking a line across his eye from his forehead to his cheekbone.

"Hito-chan," he breathed. "This is perfect."

"Have you thought of a title?" She asked, her cheeks flushed and glowing.

Oikawa paused. His notebook at home was filled with discarded ideas for titles. None of them had felt right. But as he stared at the design in front of him, he realized the answer was right in front of him. "Worthless Pride," he answered simply.

Yachi looked at him proudly before turning to the laptop. In just a few moments, she had added the title to the design, with 'Worthless' in white font and 'Pride' in rainbow. "Tooru-kun, this is going to be incredible."

"All thanks to your talents, Hito-chan," he replied smoothly. Then softly, sincerely, "Thank you."

Yachi reached out across the table to grasp his hand comfortingly. "Now that work is done, let's catch up!"

They chatted smoothly for a few moments, Yachi talking exasperatedly about her oblivious new assistant and increasing deadlines, while Oikawa interjected occasionally with nods and encouragements.

"Oh, Hito-chan," he said excitedly during a lull. "This bar I go to is having an event on Tuesday with dancing and drink specials. You should go! You've been needing a night out."

Yachi hesitated. "I'm not sure, Tooru-kun."

"Terushima will be there." He leaned forward, a hand under his chin elegantly. With Oikawa having close friendships with both Yachi and Terushima, it had been inevitable for them to meet throughout the years. Terushima, easy praises and sly looks, inevitably won over Yachi, and now she blushed even at the mention of him.

True to form, she flushed prettily. "I suppose I could go." Her phone started vibrating harshly on the table, and after looking at it with annoyance, she stood up. "I have to get back to the office, but I'll turn your design in. See you Tuesday, Tooru-kun!"

She kissed his cheek before hurrying out of the coffee shop, her matcha latte still half full.

Oikawa decided to stay at the coffee shop for a while longer, enjoying the sun slatting through the windows and the quiet hum of stray customers chatting. Just as he was lifting his mug to his lips, a crash resounded behind him.

"Shit! I'm sorry, Kuguri." A frustrated voice made him turn around, coming face to face with Iwaizumi. "Oikawa?"

"Iwa-chan, what a surprise to see you during daylight hours," Oikawa responded, his hands still clutching his mug in an attempt to soak up the remaining warmth.

Iwaizumi turned back to the attractive worker - Kuguri - and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry again, man."

"No worries, Iwa," Kuguri responded, the bored look on his face not having changed since, Oikawa assumed, he had taken Oikawa's order. "Let me grab your order from the back."

Iwaizumi comfortably settled into Yachi's vacated seat without asking. "I haven't seen you here before."

Oikawa shrugged. "I was meeting my manager. I don't come here often."  _ Though maybe I should if it means seeing you. _

Iwaizumi was dressed more casually than Oikawa had seen him before, dark jeans hugging his hips, a gray hoodie under a denim jacket. He looked effortless, effervescent, and Oikawa found himself swallowing a compliment.

"Neither do I, actually." Iwaizumi let out a short laugh. "I'm not even sure why I said that, honestly. I guess I got distracted and said the first thing that came to mind."

"That was quite the crash." Oikawa nodded understandingly.

Iwaizumi looked at him intently, like that wasn't what had distracted him at all, but didn't refute him. "Do you want to get lunch with me?"

Oikawa almost dropped his mug. If he had expected anything, it certainly wasn't that. Iwaizumi had seemed content to keep his distance ever since he had kissed Oikawa. Oikawa would have wondered if Iwaizumi had changed his mind, had he not caught Iwaizumi watching him in quiet moments at the bar, when Oikawa was finishing off a drink, or playing with Akaashi's hair, with an almost fond look on his face.

"I could eat," Oikawa finally managed.

Iwaizumi grinned. "Mind walking with me to the bar so I can drop something off first?"

Oikawa nodded, and almost like he had been waiting, Kuguri appeared, a nearly packaged box in his hands. "You need more next week, Iwa?"

Iwaizumi shook his head. "I don't think so. Thanks, Kuguri. I'll come by one of these days and actually order a coffee like a regular customer."

Kuguri almost smiled at that. Oikawa could see the corners of his mouth twitch before he turned to walk behind the counter.

"Ready?" Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa found himself nodding again as he stood to follow Iwaizumi out the door. "Sorry for the delay." Iwaizumi balanced the box in one hand while using the other to rub the nape of his neck in an endearing gesture. "I have to keep the desserts cold."

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. "I thought your desserts were made in house?"

"They are, usually. Miya took a couple of weeks off to watch his brother in the Olympics," Iwaizumi explained.

Oikawa suddenly realized why he had fleetingly thought the name Miya sounded familiar once he heard it alongside the context of the Olympics. "You're talking about Miya Atsumu?"

Iwaizumi's step faltered. "Yeah. His twin, Osamu, is the one that works for me. Why?"

Oikawa laughed, light and airy. "No reason," other than the fact that the game when he had torn his ACL had been lost to the Miya twin's team.

Iwaizumi did stop then, turning to face Oikawa head on. "Remember what I told you?"

Oikawa let his eyes close shortly, just longer than a blink, to compose himself, meeting Iwaizumi's gaze innocently. "I can't say that I do."

Iwaizumi's rough punch hit Oikawa's shoulder before he could register that Iwaizumi had even moved. "Dumbass. You're still a bad liar."

Oikawa rubbed his shoulder gingerly. "You are such a brute, Iwa-chan." He stopped himself before saying something cruel, like that if he was interested in talking to Iwaizumi, he would do so.

Iwaizumi sighed before continuing to walk, Oikawa following a step behind. "If someone doesn't force you to be truthful, you'll lie to everyone, even yourself."

"And?" Oikawa let his facade crack slightly, annoyed with the way Iwaizumi read him so easily. "What's it matter to you?"

"Why don't you let me know when you figure it out?" Iwaizumi said with a snort, like he couldn't believe Oikawa was still so clueless.

Oikawa huffed, walking more quickly until he had surpassed Iwaizumi, taking a small amount of pride in the way Iwaizumi cursed under his breath as he caught up.

A few moments of silence elapsed as they walked until The Palace came into view. "Akaashi asked me to give you his number," Iwaizumi finally said. "Apparently he keeps forgetting to give it to you every other day when he sees you."

Oikawa didn't stop the genuine smile that crossed his lips, agreeing quickly.

"Akaashi is a good guy," Iwaizumi remarked. "And a good judge of character."

"What's that supposed to mean, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa laughed airy on the edge of bitter. "Worried I'm not a good person?"

"It means that I'm glad you get along with my brother," Iwaizumi said seriously. "He's a bit reserved, and his tongue is too sharp for his own good," he continued with a sideways glance at Oikawa.

Oikawa cracked a smile at that. Akaashi had quickly grown into one of Oikawa's favorite people, with his disarming smile, soft words and sharp meanings, and gentle touch. Oikawa would trace circles on Akaashi's back, or soothe the dark hair at the nape of his neck. Akaashi would lay his head on Oikawa's shoulder, or smooth his thumb on the inside of Oikawa's wrist. It was a constant, comforting touch always existing between the two of them.

If Oikawa were honest, he craved platonic intimacy. There were days that all he wanted was to crawl on top of someone and fall asleep to strong arms wrapped around his waist.

"Akaashi means a lot to me," Oikawa answered truthfully. "Ah, I'll wait outside," he mentioned as Iwaizumi unlocked the door to The Palace.

He needed a moment to compose himself.

Iwaizumi had other plans, though, shaking his head. "Come on. I'll let you try a dessert."

Oikawa wasn't sure if he followed Iwaizumi inside because he missed the taste of something sweet on his lips or because he missed the taste of Iwaizumi's tongue in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the delay in posting - i'm super busy with a major deadline at work, and classes starting up  
> thank you for your patience!  
> rrksmith on tumblr


	8. underneath the skin

Oikawa leaned against the counter, drinking in the sight of Iwaizumi as he rustled around the bar. He had pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, the tanned skin of his forearms straining against the fabric of his hoodie. Oikawa's gaze lifted to Iwaizumi's face, which was smoothed in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he skillfully shook the mixer in his hands. Iwaizumi's eyes were captivating, sharp and green and inviting.

"Trying to get me drunk so early in the day, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa finally asked liltingly, trying to distract himself. "Scandalous."

Iwaizumi chuckled. "Trust me, the drink complements the dessert perfectly."

"And what exactly pairs well with strawberry mochi ice cream, bartender?" Oikawa asked with a glance to the plate Iwaizumi had added the desserts to.

As he did any time he talked about drinks, Iwaizumi brightened. Passion tugged his lips upwards into the beginning of a smile, and he dropped into a low, dramatic voice, like he was selling Oikawa something of value. "This is a coffee old fashioned," he began as he poured the drinks into glasses, perfectly in time with his words. "It's espresso, bourbon, simple syrup, and bitters. The richness of the espresso cuts through the sweetness of the strawberry."

Oikawa applauded lightly. "This may be an odd question to focus on, but where did you get espresso from?"

Iwaizumi's eyebrow furrowed quizzically. "It's not like you need a machine to make espresso. Did you not see me?"

Oikawa realized he had been so focused on Iwaizumi, he hadn't even noticed the beginning steps of Iwaizumi's preparations. A blush rose steadily to his cheeks, and he averted his gaze with a delicate sniff. "I have things to focus on besides you, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi leaned in, a sharp grin on his face. "Are you sure you weren't  _ too  _ focused on me, Oikawa?" His voice dipped low on Oikawa's name, sending a shiver up Oikawa's spine.

Oikawa opened his mouth to formulate a response, but was prevented from doing so when Iwaizumi lifted a piece of mochi up to Oikawa's lips. Oikawa hesitated before taking a small bite, trying to avoid both a brain freeze and mouthing at Iwaizumi's fingers. However, his tongue still accidentally brushed against Iwaizumi's fingers, and Oikawa drew back, flustered at Iwaizumi's steadily rising smirk.

"Sweet, isn't it?" Iwaizumi asked, eyes boring into Oikawa as he ate the other half of the mochi. 

Oikawa could feel threads of control slipping through his fingers, his hands clenching in an effort to stop their fall. Iwaizumi seemed to have the have the ability to take full control of any conversation. Oikawa resented it, resented the way Iwaizumi refused his excuses, forced him to be brutally honest, if only with himself, looked at him like he saw the most vulnerable parts of Oikawa.

His eyes narrowed. "Overly so," he sniped.

The amusement in Iwaizumi's eyes didn't falter as he pushed a glass towards Oikawa. "Here. Drink this."

Grudgingly, he took a small sip of the drink. It wasn't bitter, but it was sharp enough to cut through the sweetness of the mochi. Iwaizumi's eyes gleamed, like he could see Oikawa's reluctant acceptance that he was right. Oikawa didn't bother to confirm the thought, though.

"Any particular destination for our lunch date?" Oikawa asked, leaning forward to see Iwaizumi's reaction to his provocation.

"I've actually been craving ramen, if that's alright with you," Iwaizumi said, a hand coming up to the back of his neck.

Oikawa didn't stop the small smile that spread across his face. An embarrassed Iwaizumi was a cute Iwaizumi. "Sure. I always crave ramen after-" Oikawa cut himself off, his fingers flexing a few times reflexively. "Anyways, should we get going?"

Iwaizumi didn't press him, nodding and coming back from behind the bar. After he locked the door to The Palace, Iwaizumi held out his elbow to Oikawa, who wrapped his hand around the offered spot gracefully. "There's a spot down the street I like, if that's okay with you."

Oikawa nodded, thinking amusedly that Iwaizumi seemed to pick his fights when it came to forcing Oikawa to admit something. "It still feels odd, seeing you during the day," Oikawa said with a laugh.

Iwaizumi looked at him sideways, the corners of his lips twitching. "Like I don't see your obnoxious face enough at the bar," he replied, voice low and steady.

Oikawa slapped his chest lightly with his free hand, reflexively saying, "Bastard," with a hint of laughter in his voice. He found it endearing, really, how Iwaizumi had sized him up, watching him carefully before deciding it was okay to tease him, making sure he didn't mind.

Iwaizumi relaxed visibly. "I'm glad you can handle yourself," he commented offhandedly. Oikawa wanted to laugh, because he could brush off teasing with an easy smile, but he wasn't exactly known for being able to "handle himself."

"How long have you been waiting to make fun of me?" Oikawa deflected, knowing to watch for the tell-tale hint of red on the back of Iwaizumi's neck.

"Since the moment I met you," he replied seriously, though his hand came up to the back of his neck in a manner that would have been awkward had it been anyone but Iwaizumi.

"So is lunch a bribe?" Oikawa teased, not even bothered by Iwaizumi's confession. He already knew from Iwaizumi's interactions with Akaashi, Kuroo, and Kenma that he tended to hide his emotions behind joking aggression, only settling down to seriously say how he felt if the situation warranted it.

He'd seen Iwaizumi call Kuroo a dumbass before ruffling his hair affectionately, banter angrily with Akaashi before placating him with an easy call of his first name, and glare at Kenma for his dry humor before clearing his throat and sighing, which for Kenma, apparently constituted a thorough apology.

Iwaizumi's mouth twisted in amusement. "As if I would waste my money when I can make fun of you for free."

They arrived at a ramen shop tucked behind a coffee drive-through, Oikawa trailing behind Iwaizumi as they walked inside.

A smiling woman quickly led them to a table in the corner, and Oikawa sighed in satisfaction at the window to his left that showed passerby walking down the sidewalk. He heard Iwaizumi order two waters, continuing to look out the window at the small flowers blooming across the street, the bridge a few blocks away where he could see couples strolling.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi finally called, commanding his attention. "Tomorrow, why don't you meet me at the bar and I'll drive you to the gym?"

"You sure?" Oikawa asked, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. "You don't need to go out of your way."

Iwaizumi waved a hand. "The gym can be hard to find and most people get lost at first. It'll be easier this way."

Oikawa agreed easily, then, especially since he wouldn't have to worry about walking as far after playing volleyball.

"I saw you play." Iwaizumi's voice cut through his thoughts, making his hand stop its perfunctory massage on his scar.

Oikawa felt the air squeeze out of his lungs uncomfortably, and he swallowed back a cough. "What?"

"I looked up some of your games after I heard your conversation with Kageyama. He doesn't give praise lightly, and I was even more interested since we're playing together so soon. I realized I watched you play once in high school. That jump serve is unforgettable," Iwaizumi explained with a slight laugh, his eyes softening with nostalgia.

Iwaizumi paused, but when Oikawa remained silent, he filled the silence. "I went with some other third years to watch the Miyagi semi-finals, just to scout out the competition. It didn't matter, since we didn't make it past our own semi-finals the following weekend, but I can still picture that jump serve of yours like I saw it yesterday. Think my jaw hit the floor."

Oikawa softened, just barely. A forced smile that had stretched the corners of his mouth upwards relaxed into something a modicum more genuine. That game had been days before the match against Inarizaki, when Oikawa had been injured.

"'Kawa?" Iwaizumi shortened his name, starting to look worried as their waitress returned with two steaming bowls of shoyu ramen. Oikawa hadn't even heard Iwaizumi order.

"It's a shame we never played each other in high school," Oikawa finally said, breaking eye contact with Iwaizumi, who let his shoulders sag in relief before picking up his chopsticks.

"Yeah, it is." Iwaizumi looked like he had something he wanted to say, so Oikawa waited a long moment, watching a crease appear between his eyebrows. "Look, Oikawa. I saw what happened."

Oikawa tensed, trying to interrupt with a sharp, "Iwa-" but Iwaizumi spoke over him, rushing his words in an obvious effort to get them out. "Be careful tomorrow."

Oikawa snapped his mouth shut for a long second before speaking. "You're not going to tell me I shouldn't play?"

The question seemed to take Iwaizumi by surprise. "Why would I say that, dumbass?"

Oikawa shrugged a shoulder delicately, tight smile and hard eyes. "Ah, don't worry about it, Iwa-chan. Thank you for bringing me here. This ramen really hits the spot." An obvious subject change, but he wasn't too worried about subtlety.

Iwaizumi's eyes narrowed, and Oikawa squared his shoulders, realizing Iwaizumi was not going to let the subject go. "Why did you expect me to tell you not to play?"

"You saw what happened, Iwa-chan," Oikawa finally settled on saying, keeping his voice light. "Athletes that tear their ACL once are at a higher risk of tearing it again."

"That doesn't mean you have to stop playing, especially not recreationally," Iwaizumi argued, like Oikawa didn't agree with him. He sighed, then said more softly, "I'm going to keep an eye on you, though."

Oikawa finally relaxed. The conversation had kept him on edge, because he had been unsure what Iwaizumi was going to say, but now he was even more excited to play. "Don't blame me if I ruin you for all other setters," he said with a wink.

"I know you were good, but that's quite the statement," Iwaizumi grinned before taking a drink of water, like he was waiting for Oikawa to defend himself.

"You know what makes a setter good, I'm sure, ace." Oikawa deflected. It was always better to show abilities than say them.

"What makes you think I was the ace?" Iwaizumi's lips quirked when Oikawa's gaze fell to his arms.

Oikawa caught himself before he said something altogether embarrassing. "You're reliable," he replied finally.

Iwaizumi quieted down for a minute while the waitress took their empty bowls. "Thanks for coming with me."

"You looked like you needed a distraction." Oikawa waved him off. 

"I wasn't expecting to see Kuguri," Iwaizumi admitted with a wry smile.

Oikawa's breath hitched in realization, then, thinking back to the smile that had tugged at the corners of Kuguri's lips when he had looked at Iwaizumi, the way Kuguri had called him so familiarly. "I should have realized he was a past lover," Oikawa said amusedly. "It's not like you to get so flustered. I take it the breakup was recent?"

Iwaizumi hesitated. "We stopped seeing each other about a month ago."

Oikawa registered vaguely that was around the same time he had started frequenting The Palace, dismissing the information as quickly as it came. "Breakups take time to get over, Iwa-chan," he said flippantly. He conveniently left out the fact that his last breakup probably should have taken more time to get over. He assumed for most people, it took time.

It was endearing, the way Iwaizumi's lips pressed together when he was on the verge of saying something. In fact, Iwaizumi's tell was always his mouth, as far as Oikawa had seen. His lips always tugged into the barest beginning of a smile when he was happy. When he was lost in thought, his tongue peeked out the corner of his lips absentmindedly. His jaw clenched when he got frustrated, and he had a habit of biting the inside of his cheek in a physical effort to prevent himself from yelling.

"Say, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of the table. "What's my tell?" He half expected Iwaizumi to be confused, ask him what the hell he meant, but without a second of pause, Iwaizumi said, "Your hands."

Iwaizumi held his gaze, and Oikawa couldn't have looked away if he wanted to. He stayed still as Iwaizumi leaned in as well, until he could see the flecks of gold in Iwaizumi's eyes reflected in the sunlight streaming through the window. "You flex your fingers when you feel like you're not in control, when you don't want to talk about something because you'll be too vulnerable. You tap out patterns when you're anxious. It almost sounds like Morse Code. Oh, and you move your hands when you lie."

"My mom taught me Morse Code when I was a kid," Oikawa finally said, ignoring the rest of Iwaizumi's words so he could keep his voice mostly steady. He wondered if Iwaizumi could see the way his soul crumbled under the fear and warmth of vulnerability under Iwaizumi's knowing gaze. "That way she could reassure me even when we couldn't talk."

"It seems like your mom influenced you a lot," Iwaizumi finally said. His fingers brushed over Oikawa's knuckles, once.

"Most of my habits come from her," Oikawa admitted.

"Does that include the nicknames?" Iwaizumi asked with a small laugh.

"Oh, absolutely, Iwa-chan." Oikawa let Iwaizumi pull him up from the table after tossing some money on the table and lead him out the front door.

After they parted ways at the sidewalk leading up to The Palace, Oikawa was left with a lingering lethargy settling into his veins. He could only be so vulnerable before it took a toll; he wondered vaguely if he would regret being so open with Iwaizumi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure how quickly this story will progress, as i have a lot going on personally, but please know i truly appreciate you reading, commenting, and following this story  
> and as a side note - this is an au, so some of the high school matches won't fit canonically


	9. stripped down to the bone

Oikawa hesitated outside the door to The Palace on Friday night for a long second before stepping inside. He had his favorite knee brace on, white and worn often enough to feel like a familiar caress against his skin. Iwaizumi looked as comfortable in athletic wear as he did in a pressed button down, jogging over to Oikawa with his lips quirking up as he called a greeting.

“Ah, Iwa-chan. Thanks again for the ride.” Oikawa tilted his head, following Iwaizumi out the door and leaning against the wall as Iwaizumi locked up. “Making sure I didn’t get lost was always more nerve-wracking than any of my actual games,” he admitted with a small laugh.

Iwaizumi paused before stuffing his keys in a pocket. “Well, if I had left you on your own, I would have been the one responsible for helping you when you get lost.”

Oikawa smiled. Iwaizumi acted like he was acting in his own self-interests, despite Oikawa having caught the fond look on his face at the thought of Oikawa’s struggle with navigating directions. He kept quiet, though, knowing Iwaizumi’s penchant for pretending he wasn’t nearly as nice as he constantly proved, and followed Iwaizumi to a steel gray sports car. “A Nissan GTR? Iwa-chan, it appears you’re a man of fine tastes.”

Iwaizumi’s lips curled into a lazy half smile, apparently pleased with Oikawa’s recognition. “In more ways than one,” he replied before unlocking the doors. Oikawa slid into the seat, taking a moment to admire the sleek interior.

Iwaizumi looked at ease behind the wheel, the muscles in his arms tensing when he shifted gears so naturally it looked absentminded. Oikawa hummed along to the catchy, if over-popular, music Iwaizumi left playing, low enough to encourage conversation. “She was my dad’s,” Iwaizumi said after a few moments of silence.

“She?” Oikawa raised an eyebrow, allowing Iwaizumi to continue to lead the conversation.

“Yes, she,” Iwaizumi returned easily. “When I was growing up, my dad would let me help him fix up old cars. It was a hobby of his, a way to combat stress, I think. Anyways, she was my dad’s pride and joy. When he passed, he left me the car, maybe to remind me of my childhood.”

Oikawa hesitated. “I’m sorry, Iwa,” he said softly. “My mom-”

His words were interrupted by a harsh vibration. Iwaizumi glanced at him apologetically before lifting his phone to his ear to answer the call. “What do you want?”

Oikawa could hear a low voice on the other end, unperturbed by Iwaizumi’s blunt greeting, if the amused cadence was anything to go by. “You and Makki better not slack off tonight,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “This is the first time either of you has shown up in months.”

Oikawa tuned out the reply, watching the various businesses slide by through the window until Iwaizumi said a short goodbye and hung up. “Sorry about that, Oikawa. Mattsun always has had the worst timing.”

“Ah, so tonight I’ll finally meet the famous Makki and Mattsun?” Oikawa brushed off Iwaizumi’s apology. Hanamaki Takahiro and Matsukawa Issei were well-known in Tokyo due to their wildly popular social media. Matsukawa, or Mattsun, was an excellent photographer, from what Oikawa had seen, and Hanamaki, or Makki, had increased their popularity exponentially by creating a YouTube channel that detailed Mattsun’s creative process. Yachi gushed about the duo, citing their good-natured humor and natural chemistry as the reason they had amassed recognition so quickly.

Iwaizumi nodded. “Makki is a wing spiker and Mattsun is a middle blocker. None of us play as much as we used to, but they were decent enough back in the day.”

“I didn’t picture you as the type to use nicknames,” Oikawa commented.

Iwaizumi gave him a sideways glance. “I use nicknames,” he said, pausing for a moment before adding, “Shittykawa,” almost embarrassedly. “Besides, I didn’t come up with their nicknames.”

“Shittykawa?” Oikawa let out a laugh as Iwaizumi parked the car. “My mistake. You’re clearly excellent at nicknames.”

Iwaizumi grumbled halfheartedly, but didn’t protest as he started walking into the gym, Oikawa trailing behind. The first step inside the gym set Oikawa at ease, his shoulders relaxing as he took in the familiar scent and shine that came with any gym. He recognized Akaashi, playing with his hands as he talked to someone with white hair falling over their forehead. A few steps away, Kuroo stretched lazily, a grin on his face as he called out snarky remarks.

“Iwa, good to see you.” Oikawa tried to recall the videos Yachi had excitedly showed him, and deduced Mattsun was the one speaking, from the slouched shoulders and impassive expression breaking into a small grin. Makki, short hair and a knowing smirk, followed him closely, calling out his own greeting.

“You must be Oikawa,” Makki said easily, his lips falling into a more genuine smile. “I’m Makki, and this is Mattsun.”

Oikawa inclined his head. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you both.”

“Likewise.” Mattsun’s grin was lazy, his eyes bright, and Oikawa noted with a laugh that Mattsun and Makki both had strong, amused personalities that were more than online personas. “Iwa here won’t shut up about you.”

Oikawa turned just in time to see the slight flush on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck. "How flattering, Iwa-chan." He faced Mattsun and Makkk again. "Hopefully his complaints don't bother you too much." He could only imagine the exasperated phone calls the duo received from Iwaizumi.

Mattsun and Makkk exchanged a look that told Oikawa his comment had missed the mark. He had assumed Iwaizumi complained about his teasing remarks or the way he slouched on the counter after a few drinks, too tired to keep his head up. He looked an arm around each of them, guiding them away from Iwaizumi. "Oh, I think we'll get along splendidly."

"Warm up properly, Oikawa," Iwaizumi called out belatedly before moving over to Kuroo. Oikawa nodded to show he'd heard.

"We heard you met Kuguri," Makki commented off-handedly before Oikawa could speak. "I never could get a read on him."

"They probably got along so well because of how laid-back they both are," Mattsun added. "That's also probably why they never officially dated."

Oikawa thought back to the smile that Kuguri had almost allowed to escape upon seeing Iwaizumi. "Too alike?"

Makki nodded. "Iwa needs someone who can pull genuine emotion out of him. He complains, though, because someone that can pull his anger and happiness out also tends to pull his frustration out."

"Highly entertaining for us, though." Mattsun easily finished Makki's train of thought. Oikawa wondered how much time they spent together to be able to work so seamlessly.

"Makki-chan, you're a wing spiker, right? And Mattsun, you're a middle blocker." Oikawa waited for them to nod in confirmation. "I assume you'll be on the same team as Iwaizumi, which means I'll be your setter. I hope your coordination carries over to the court."

They all settled into their own familiar warm-up, continuing light-hearted conversation. Oikawa had always found that even a few moments of conversation with new teammates helped establish the trust necessary between a setter and his hitters. Now, Mattsun and Makkk weren't strangers. He knew that Mattsun once cried after a few drinks because someone offered him ice cream, and that Makki pierced his own ear as a dare. Additionally, he was no longer a faceless setter to them.

Iwaizumi came over as they were finishing their warm-up. "How's your knee?"

Oikawa tapped the edge of his brace lightly with a grin. "No need to worry about me, Iwa-chan."

"Let me introduce you to the other player on our team before we get started." Iwaizumi led him over. The only person he hadn't met yet was Sawamura Daichi, who had a solid build, a strong smile, and a stronger handshake, who introduced himself as Iwaizumi's gym partner.

Iwaizumi gave him a brief rundown of the other team. "Everyone playing with Akaashi tonight is conniving. Just know that they are all analyzing every move you make, and will do whatever they can to break you."

"Except Bokuto," Daichi interjected. "He's less the cunning kind and more the brute strength kind. He played professionally for a few years, but recently retired. His doctor told him the strain on his body was getting to be too much, and continuing to play at that caliber would lead to serious injury."

Oikawa nodded in understanding. He knew what it was like to give up that dream because of a faulty body, but Bokuto had at least had the sense to listen to his doctors and avoid an injury in the first place.

While he didn't recognize most of the other players, Oikawa spotted Kuguri a few feet away, looking as unenthused as ever while he spiked a ball.

Makki came up to Oikawa, then, leaning in so his words didn't carry. "Kuguri hasn't shown up for about a month. Must've felt awkward about seeing Iwa. Maybe their run-in the other day smoothed things over."

When the game began, despite it having been a few months since Oikawa had stepped on a court, he found a rhythm quickly. It didn't take long to familiarize himself with the other players' preferred sets, and he allowed himself to focus only on the game, the movements around him. He didn't try to stop the smile that spread across his face when Iwaizumi praised his set after a particularly satisfying spike, their hands reaching out instinctively for a quick fist bump.

Oikawa had always enjoyed analyzing players. When he played in high school, he would watch recordings of games over and over to determine a team's strengths and weaknesses, and to devise strategies. Now, though, watching players was second nature, entertaining but not consuming.

He noticed the way Bokuto, his white hair falling over his forehead, looked for Akaashi's approval, despite his obvious confidence and skill. He made a mental note to tease Akaashi about the soft smile playing on his lips when he spoke to Bokuto.

Like Iwaizumi had said, most of the other players were the strategic type, which resulted in a game that was as much a battle of wits as it was a battle of physical prowess.

During a quick break between sets, Iwaizumi came over and clapped his hand across Oikawa's back. "You better play with us consistently now. It's been a while since I've had such easy sets."

Oikawa arched an eyebrow. "I told you I was a good setter."

Iwaizumi laughed. "You haven't lost your touch, although I noticed you haven't done any jump serves."

"I didn't want the game to end too soon," he teased, bending his knee a few times experimentally. "I'll pull one out at the end." He didn't do jump serves often when playing recreationally, partially to protect his weak knee, and partially because he knew he wouldn't want to stop. In high school, he had practiced his serve for hours at a time, perfecting it; even now, jump serves were almost therapeutic.

He waited until the game was close to wrapping up before taking a deep breath and preparing himself to serve. The motion was easy, even after so much time. The toss, the run up, the satisfying feeling of his palm hitting the ball just right. When the ball landed perfectly, untouched, Iwaizumi turned to catch his eye. "Nice, 'Kawa!"

Oikawa didn't know if it was the praise or the genuine excitement in Iwaizumi's gaze that had his cheeks flushing. The game wrapped up quickly after that, everyone breaking up into groups of two or three to cool down.

Iwaizumi ended up by him as they stretched. "Thanks for coming tonight, 'Kawa."

"It was fun," Oikawa replied truthfully. "I'd like to play with you again."

Iwaizumi hesitated before grinning widely, like he hadn't expected Oikawa to be so straightforward. "I hope you're still up for dinner and drinks."

"Oikawa," Akaashi interrupted, coming over and interlacing his fingers together with Oikawa. "You're an incredible setter. You'll play again with us, right?"

"Of course, Kei-chan. I wasn't surprised to see how thoughtful your movements were." Akaashi's setting carried the same graceful, skillful movements that his normal demeanor indicated. "Oh, and I expect details at dinner."

Akaashi didn't even try to argue, a knowing gleam in his eye. "I'll let you finish cooling down, and we'll talk at dinner." He ruffled Oikawa's hair before walking over to Bokuto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks as always for reading, commenting, and enjoying the story  
> come make friends with me on tumblr at rrksmith


	10. drank the sun away

It wasn't long before Oikawa was squeezed into a booth in a hole in the wall restaurant between Iwaizumi and Akaashi, halfway through his third refill of sake, talking animatedly with Mattsun and Makki, who were seated directly across from him. "No, Makki-chan," he said, his words on the verge of slurring, "Dai-chan had the best receives tonight."

Mattsun raised his eyebrows. "Maybe, but you had the best serve." His eyes were half-lidded, but his voice was as amused as ever. "I half expected Iwa to ask for your autograph. 'Nice, 'Kawa!'" He imitated Iwaizumi, a smile tugging his lips.

Makki chuckled. "I'd say I was surprised, but Iwa bragged about your setting skills so much, I felt like I'd played with you before."

Oikawa turned to face Iwaizumi, eyebrow quirked. "Iwa-chan, you saw me play one time." He was surprised by how frequently Makki and Mattsun made it seem like Iwaizumi talked about him. Iwaizumi had flirted with him on occasion, of course, and there had been that kiss, but he still assumed Iwaizumi saw him as a regular at the bar, maybe bordering on a friend.

Iwaizumi had been staying surprisingly quiet, leaning back with only a small flush on his cheeks to indicate his embarrassment. "I told you I watched some of your matches online a few days ago," he protested. "Anyways, was I wrong?"

"No, he's good." Makki placated, shooting Oikawa a measured look. "Mattsun and I were actually with Iwa when he saw you play, but I didn't remember you until the end, when I saw your jump serve."

Oikawa let out a small laugh. "I'm sure it paled in comparison to my high school days."

Akaashi chose that moment to break into the conversation, turning slightly from where he'd been pressed into Bokuto. "Don't sell yourself short, Oikawa. That was a hell of a serve." His hand found Oikawa's knee, still in it's white brace, squeezing reassuringly.

Oikawa, pleasantly full and pleasantly tipsy, leaned his head on Akaashi's shoulder, taking advantage of their proximity to whisper in Akaashi's ear. "I saw how you looked at him."

Akaashi let out a small sigh, keeping his voice low. "Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Falling in love?" Oikawa let his eyes drift shut briefly as Akaashi absentmindedly drew circles on the back of his hand.

"Falling in love with someone who has a girlfriend," Akaashi corrected.

Oikawa sat up, turning to face Akaashi, his back pressing uncomfortably into Iwaizumi's arm. "Kei-chan, did I hear you correctly?" When Akaashi nodded, Oikawa pressed his lips together. "How long?"

"Almost three years." Akaashi smiled, forced and fake, when Bokuto jostled into him, clapping his arm enthusiastically as an apology. His smile dipped for a moment into something sorrowful before he shifted away from Oikawa to enter another conversation. His hand stayed on Oikawa's knee, and after a moment, Oikawa settled his hand atop Akaashi's, trying to provide him a modicum of comfort.

Oikawa tapped Iwaizumi's shoulder, waiting for his attention before bringing his mouth to Iwaizumi's ear. "Have you ever met Bo-chan's girlfriend?"

Iwaizumi paused, thinking. "I don't think so. She doesn't watch our practices, and she doesn't like coming out for dinner with everyone because of how loud it can get."

Oikawa snorted. "She thinks this is loud but she dates Bo-chan?" He finished off his sake - was that his fourth drink? fifth? - whilst thinking about the irony. He'd only seen Bokuto for a short amount of time but he talked like he played, loudly, calling all attention to himself. 

Iwaizumi held his gaze for a moment before breaking into a loud laugh. "I guess you're right." He was silent for a beat, then his voice lowered. "Is your knee feeling okay?"

Oikawa tilted his head. "If you're so concerned, you could always carry me home." It was half teasing, poking fun at Iwaizumi's worrisome nature, half drunken confidence.

"My place is closer," Iwaizumi said with a smirk. His voice dipped, a rough "'Kawa," following his statement.

Oikawa could feel heat rising to his cheeks, his hand squeezing Akaashi too tightly out of instinct. That was the last reaction he had expected. Iwaizumi's voice saying his name was sinful, sending a heat through his veins entirely different than the sake had precipitated. Iwaizumi laughed, his face easing from its intense expression seconds prior. "You sure like that nickname," he responded dumbly, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

Iwaizumi took a long swig of sake. "It goes with the others," he said. When Oikawa raised an eyebrow in question, he continued. "Kuroo, Kenma, 'Kaashi, and 'Kawa. Besides, you nickname everyone."

Mattsun spoke up helpfully, if a little belatedly. "Iwaizumi gets sentimental when he drinks." Makki added a "Sappy as shit," while nodding. Mattsun kept talking, like Makki's interruption had been part of the plan. "I'm surprised he didn't say 'The four most important people in my life.'"

"You sound jealous, Mattsun," Iwaizumi retorted, an edge of a grumble in his voice. He didn't sound too annoyed, flagging down their waitress for a glass of water. "Maybe if you showed up at the bar once in a while," he said, taking a long drink instead of finishing his sentence.

"We'll be there on Tuesday, don't worry," Makki assured with a small laugh. "Never thought you would stoop to promoting on social media, Iwa."

"You say stoop, like you don't make your living off social media," Iwaizumi muttered. "Besides, that's 'Kawa's doing, not mine."

Makki and Mattsun shared a look, like they were filing that fact away for later. "Ah, of course, 'Kawa runs your social media," Makki teased, a glint in his eye and an emphasis on Oikawa's nickname.

The conversation continued on, but Oikawa sat back for a moment and just took in the noise. While there were a dozen people at the table, his interactions had been limited to the people closest to him. Akaashi and Bokuto were laughing animatedly with Kuroo and Daichi, looking comfortable enough with each other that Oikawa guessed they had long-standing history. Suna, Suguru, Tsukishima, and Kuguri were engaged in a less noisy, but probably far more scathing, conversation.

While Oikawa hadn't had a chance to talk to any of them, he appreciated their calculating gazes while playing. It was clear they took volleyball seriously, but still had fun, calling out sarcastic remakes and smirking when their plays worked the way they wanted.

Oikawa was distracted from his musings by Iwaizumi's hand on his thigh, Iwaizumi's lips dropping to his ear. "You okay?"

It was hard to respond with his brain short-circuiting at Iwaizumi's warm touch, but Oikawa managed a smile. "Just tired." And he was, but that wasn't new.

Iwaizumi's brow creased, in a familiar way that Oikawa had started finding comforting. "I'll take you home."

Oikawa's smile turned sharp. "How could I turn down such an enticing offer?"

The glint in Iwaizumi's eyes was well worth the knowing smile Akaashi turned on him, the loud laughter from Makki and Mattsun. Iwaizumi and Oikawa called out farewells to everyone, thanking them for practice and dinner, and assuring their attendance the following week.

A few whistles, likely courtesy of Makki and Mattsun, followed Iwaizumi and Oikawa as they walked out, and when Oikawa turned his head, he caught Kuguri's eye, exchanging a small nod.

As they walked to Iwaizumi's car, Oikawa hummed under his breath. "Tonight was fun, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi paused, glancing up at him. "You use more nicknames when you're drunk."

"Are you always so observant?" Oikawa asked, almost bitingly, as he shut the car door.

"Only when it comes to you," Iwaizumi replied easily, seriously, starting the car like he hadn't just stolen Oikawa's breath out of his lungs, and  _ oh _ Oikawa suddenly felt like he'd taken another couple of shots.

The drive back to The Palace seemed far shorter than the drive to the gym, Oikawa spending the whole time with his fingertips dancing patterns on his thigh, trying to calm his thoughts to a reasonable pace. It was easier said than done, when he could still feel the ghost of Iwaizumi's lips at his ear, could still hear the low murmur of his name rolling off Iwaizumi's tongue.

When Iwaizumi turned off the car after parking, he turned so he was facing Oikawa. "I'll walk you home."

Oikawa laughed, light and airy, pretending his heart didn't leap into his throat when Iwaizumi fixed him with an endearingly determined gaze. "A gentleman as always."

He wasn't sure if the heat settling pleasantly in the bottom of his stomach was from alcohol, or from the urge to kiss Iwaizumi, but he decided it was nice either way. As they walked, his fingertips brushed Iwaizumi's ever so often, sending tingles up his palm.

"Hey, 'Kawa?" Iwaizumi's voice was steady and low and Oikawa wanted to languish in the rhythm of his words but instead he hummed, to let Iwaizumi know he was listening. "We're here."

Oikawa looked up, surprised to see his apartment door in front of him. He hesitated, a little unsettled on his feet, and caught Iwaizumi's gaze. Iwaizumi didn't seem eager to leave either, so Oikawa took a deep breath. "Iwa-chan, do you want to come inside?"

Iwaizumi didn't answer for a long moment, during which Oikawa counted his heartbeats, trying to steady his breathing. Oikawa thought he had misjudged the moment, opened his mouth to take it all back, put that steady determination and easygoing amusement back into Iwaizumi's eyes, when Iwaizumi surged forward.

Iwaizumi's lips were insistent against Oikawa's own, as soft and warm as Oikawa remembered. When Oikawa sighed softly, Iwaizumi slanted their mouths together, one hand gripping the back of Oikawa's neck and the other grasping the back of his shirt. They both tasted like sake and Oikawa smiled into their messy movements, causing Iwaizumi to pause, pull pack, rest their foreheads together.

Oikawa took a step back to unlock the door, grabbing Iwaizumi's hand with a familiarity that twisted his stomach pleasantly, to lead him inside. After closing the door behind him, Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa against the wall. He ignored the dull sting in his back, gasping easily at the way Iwaizumi took control.

Iwaizumi leaned in, stopping right before his lips touched Oikawa's. "We're friends, aren't we, 'Kawa?" Oikawa wondered if it was the alcohol that made Iwaizumi's words sound so honest, tinged with a hint of worry that would normally have been undetectable.

He laughed, small and short, thinking most people wouldn't ask "Are we friends?" while pinning someone against a wall, mere moments after a kiss that was less than chaste. He did consider Iwaizumi his friend, though. They spent time together frequently, even outside of Oikawa visiting the bar, and Oikawa felt at ease around him, more so than he did around some people he had known for years. "Yeah, Iwa, we're friends."

Oikawa tried to lean forward and connect their lips again, but Iwaizumi leaned back, clearly not satisfied. "Then, if this-" Iwaizumi leaned forward, kissing him hot and wet and sloppy, until Oikawa's knees nearly gave way- "happens, you won't run away." Iwaizumi didn't phrase it as a question, but Oikawa heard the uncertainty in his voice.

It hit Oikawa, then, that there was no possibility of a one night stand. He supposed there never was, when it came to Iwaizumi. The thought didn't scare him as much as he expected it to. "You won't let me," he said easily, remembering their past conversation where Iwaizumi had told him to find friends who didn't let him run away.

Iwaizumi grinned then, something soft and proud, kissing Oikawa a little sweeter. "Fuck, I've wanted to do this for so long, 'Kawa."

Oikawa couldn't help the small shiver that ran up his spine. "Yeah?" He whispered, low against Iwaizumi's lips. "You looked so good on the court tonight, I could barely focus," he admitted, causing Iwaizumi to let out a low groan that Oikawa wished he could record and play back later.

They made steady progress towards Oikawa's bedroom, kissing in between discarding each other's clothes. Oikawa tucked away all of the keening noises Iwaizumi made, trying to memorize the way he nipped Oikawa's bottom lip, pressed his tongue easy and demanding inside Oikawa's mouth, like there was nothing on his mind but tasting the sake on Oikawa's lips.

Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa down onto the bed, pausing to drink in the sight of Oikawa, half naked and flushed. "Iwa," Oikawa murmured, more of a whine in his voice than he'd like to admit.

Iwaizumi looked pleased by the noise, though, joining Oikawa on the bed and kissing him hard and desperate. "Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you." Oikawa pretended Iwaizumi calling him baby didn't make his pulse stutter.

Iwaizumi worked him open masterfully, like he was already acquainted with Oikawa's body, like he already knew everything that made Oikawa feel good. It didn't take Iwaizumi long to find the spot between Oikawa's neck and shoulder that made him shudder in pleasure, or the spot on Oikawa's inner thighs that he liked being nipped at.

Oikawa couldn't remember the last time he had made so much noise during sex, but Iwaizumi pulled keening noises and small whines out of his throat like it was nothing. "Please, Iwa," he finally gasped. When Iwaizumi stood up to grab a condom, Oikawa took the chance to occupy his mouth in a different manner, humming in pleasure at the small gasp Iwaizumi gave him.

Iwaizumi's hand found his hair quickly, tugging lightly until their eyes met. It wasn't long before Iwaizumi became impatient, though, pulling Oikawa off of him gently. Iwaizumi was slow and careful when he first entered Oikawa, but fucked him mercilessly, keeping their lips connected except for moments when he would pull back, take in the flushed look on Oikawa's face, brush his hair back gently, and whisper praises.

Afterwards, when Oikawa lay with his head resting on Iwaizumi's chest, he hummed contentedly, feeling more sated than he had in a long time. Iwaizumi's soft snores could be heard within minutes, but Oikawa lay awake, eventually disentangling himself to go write in the living room.

In the early morning hours, when Iwaizumi appeared at the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and calling Oikawa's name, Oikawa allowed himself to be led back to bed, thinking that maybe settling down wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have one more chapter written after this, so if i ever get my life together, guess i'll need to... actually write again  
> thanks to everyone who's been sticking w/ this story. i love you all and appreciate the support. slide in my DMs on tumblr at rrksmith if you want to yell abt iwaoi (because i'm always yelling abt iwaoi)


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